


Fae of the Blacks

by Miss_sunfire



Series: Fae of the Blacksverse [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BDSM, Background Poly, Battle of the Department of Mysteries, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Creature Fic, Creature Hermione Granger, Discord: Bellamione Cult, F/F, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Femslash, Fluff and Angst, Multi, POV Hermione Granger, Pureblood Hermione Granger, Racism, voldie is still insane though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2020-04-23 22:43:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 48,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19160485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_sunfire/pseuds/Miss_sunfire
Summary: Hermione had always felt just a little unsettled in her own skin. There was a emotional distance between herself and the people around her that seemed to...put everyone on edge. Her eyes, glimpsed for just a second out of the corner of one’s eyes looked a little too predatory. Her teeth, seemed, just a little too sharp, often curled in a smirk just a little meaner than one might expect from a naive Gryffindor.A chance encounter with a certain woman during the battle of the department of mysteries changes all that. All the broken pieces fit together again, but the revelation lands her between a rock and a hard place. An insane villain on one hand and an insane control freak on the other. Her peers alternatively objectifying or vilifying her.But still, she stands tall, and looks for a better way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi y'all,
> 
> So, a word about some of my other works. I kinda have some shit going on in my life right now, and some medical complications (high level: persistent significant complications and chronic pain from bottom surgery as I'm a trans woman) that have basically sapped all my will to write smut scenes, which has given me major writers block for some of my stories. This plot bunny gave me a bit of a chance to keep writing something that should hopefully be interesting, but not too triggering for me on a personal level.
> 
> So some notes on this story: Bellamione is one of my favorite ships in HP. One thing that often kinda annoys me though is in a lot of the evil/highly problematic dumbledore stories the immediate conclusion is saying f everyone I've ever known, light evil dark misunderstood. That's all fun and good, but this tries to hit a bit finer of a line. Dumbles is an evil, casually racist bastard, but the dark side ain't fluffy kittens and roses either. Hermione ain't gonna just sit on her hands, be neutral and hope it resolves itself, but going forward isn't exactly easy when nobody is in your corner.

*************************************************  
A furious storm lashed the air over an expansive villa. The overwhelming howls of wind and cracks of thunder drowned out the sounds of battle. Flashes of spellfire poked through the inky blackness, only to swallowed up by the piercing rain. The harsh stomp of many boots, the screams of pain and the trembling vibration of explosions echoed in time with great claps of thunder. The very earth and sky vented their rage at the forces within. 

If one of the well to do residents of the nearby estates had been standing closer to the property, perhaps they would have heard the progress of the fighting. How boots kicked down the front gate before squads of wizards rushed onto the property. How the frightened residents tried to flee further into the estate, haphazardly flinging spells to distract and slow down the wizard’s relentless advance. How those shouts and explosions slowly tapered off as the residents were cornered and eventually cut down. 

...but none of the neighbours were there that day. They were all hunkered down in their own beds late in the depths of night and storm. 

All told, the battle ended quickly, barely 10 minutes long. More of an execution really. The residents were surprised and overmatched by the far superior fighting force. 

So it was that an old wizened wizard slowly pushed a charred and half broken door open. The soft pastel colors the painted the walls inside were at odds with the violent devastation outside the room. His crystal blue eyes twinkled in the gloom behind his funny octagonal glasses. He stood in front of a crib containing a squealing toddler. A grim but satisfied air hovered about him as his garish magenta robes settled around him after the bustle of the battle. An oddly contemplative mood struck him as he stared at the child and fiddled with his wand impatiently.

A loud clunk grabbed his attention and the wizard spun to face the door seeing his longtime friend and compatriot stepping into the room.

“Albus, it’s done, the savages creatures are finally dead. We’ve struck a resounding blow to _his_ forces. With any luck the war will be over in just a few months, especially if that prophecy you’re obsessing over is anything to go by.” The scruffy old wizard with pegleg and mechanical eye barked out. 

Albus smiled, tired, but satisfied. The weight of the world for one second feeling just a bit lighter, and his shoulders releasing their exhausting tension. The old man took on the look of a worker done a long, arduous task. For the greater good, of course. 

“Excellent my old friend. Excellent. I think this fine night was an unmitigated success. Do a final sweep of the grounds and then clear up the damage to the estate. We don’t want to leave any evidence for the ministry to start asking any unnecessary questions now do we.” Albus said pleasantly. He was pleased at the curt and obedient nod his friend gave him. 

“What of the child sir?” The peg legged wizard queried as he shot the crib a hateful and expectant glare. Albus merely hummed thoughtfully for a few seconds. 

“I find myself in a strange humour tonight Alastor. I think the child should live.” Albus said, voice soft spoken and curious. The old man almost sounded surprised that the thought had even come out of his mouth. 

“But Albus, surely you know of the danger? Even if you manage to explain how the brat still lives, you must understand the danger it poses. The child of savages cannot help but be one itself. It’s only a matter of time Albus. It would be a kindness to dispose of it now before the inevitable and someone gets hurt.” Alastor asked, as a frustrated growl rumbled in his chest. The growl turned into a snarl when Albus gave an amused and fond chuckle. Like a Father soothing a recalcitrant child. 

“All too true old friend, which is why this is such a strange humour. Dark and savage as it may be, the child has as of yet, done nothing wrong. I find myself wondering if killing it preemptively is truly the right course. The just course.” Albus said, leaving the query to hang on the wind. 

“It’ll be on your head when it kills some good upstanding member of the wizarding community Albus. It’ll be on your head, if you don’t do what’s needed now.” Alastor groused, though Albus’s old friend did bow his head in deference to Albus’s stronger position within the Order. 

“True. It’s probably just my own personal failings, burdened as I am by the inspiration of an academic and the weight of mercy. I’ve been wondering of late, are monsters born or are they raised. We are wizards are we not? Men of means and power. Could we not take the savage out of the child? I find myself interested in seeing if it would resort to it’s baser instincts or if it could not then be guided to the path of light?” Albus argued, his voice echoing commandingly through the space, overpowering the increasingly plaintive wails of the child.

“It will not be overly difficult to hide the child within the muggle world Alastor. It can be an experiment of sorts. If it succeeds then we will have saved one poor unfortunate soul from a hellish fate. If it fails, well, we can chalk it up to a lesson learned and dispose of it.” The wizened old wizard said, a devious smirk on his face and a vicious twinkle in his eyes. 

“It’ll be on you old man when the experiment fails, but I guess it’ll be on me to clean up your mess afterwards. As always old friend.” Alastor finally huffed as he shook his head. 

Albus merely chuckled affectionately and moved to wave his wand over the crying toddler. The magical focus started to sweep through a complex series of movements in his nimble fingers. Glowing runes hovered in the air, momentarily fascinating the child and halting it’s cries. However, as Albus began to chant and his focused gaze bore into the child it began to scream anew. The energy lashed into the small body, now screaming in pain as its body shook and morphed under a harsh assault of Albus’s magic. The baby thrashed and clawed at the crib but was stuck fast under the force of Albus’s will, helpless, alone, and utterly at his mercy. 

Outside, the storm raged on.

************************************************************

Something was...different.

There was a burning, buzzing sensation across her back, in her hands and face and… hell in her very blood herself. Everything she had was keyed to 11. A practically tangible sense of importance and eventuality hung in the air. Something...well terrible might not be the word for it, but it was going to happen. Though certainly, going off with Harry on yet another one of his harebrained adventures would likely end terribly for all involved. Momentous would probably be a better word, something momentous was about to happen. 

Hermione supposed it would be natural, normal even to feel nervous. They were after all about to go and try to rescue Harry’s godfather from Voldemort (who _supposedly_ was in the process of torturing Sirius at the ministry). Even if it was a false alarm, what they were doing was terribly dangerous. At the very least they could be charged with breaking and entering. The teen knew that she was probably at the worst risk here. Fudge was on the warpath, trying to silence all dissent, and she knew the minister would think the muggleborn witch an easy target for retaliation.

Well, dangerous was probably too light a word for the situation. 

Still she’d been in arguably greater and more immediate danger before. Hell, she’d been petrified by a bloody basilisk in second year. Face dementors and werewolves in third. Hell, she’d helped Harry solve the Stone’s puzzles and fight Voldemort as a bloody ickle firstie. That didn’t negate however, that the energy buzzing in her veins now was _leagues_ different than all those other situations. 

Before she’d always felt a sort of low simmering terror. Adrenaline had certainly pumped through her veins, and her heart certainly rabbited away in her chest...but it was always like there was this godsdamn smothering blanket over everything she felt. That she’d seen the world through a tube, always separated and detached from what she was experiencing. 

Now she was hit with the full, unmitigated force of the cocktail of stress hormones flooding her body. Filling her with untameable whirling energy. She wanted to run, to dance, to fight, to shout at the moon and get some sort of release from the overwhelming tension. Her magic crackled around her, lightning in her blood. Ready, eager and oh so very vicious as it ran over her fingertips. It was all too eager to be pushed through her wand at the first sign of trouble.

….She had to say, as weird as it was to finally for _once_ feel goddamn alive, she fucking loved it. Finally, finally, she felt like what she was doing really matter. As if she was a member and full participant in the world and wasn’t fighting her own apathy at merely living all the time. 

Hermione had always idly wondered if there was something...broken about her. That feeling of detachment, of experiencing the world on mute had been with her as long as she’d known. Had been destroying her life one step at a time around every corner. 

The wild haired brunette had just never seemed to be able to...well, care about things properly. Like a normal human would. Books and study tended to hold her interest well, but she always burned through them quickly and needed something new to occupy her mind. The satisfaction of praise and a job well done or knowing the answer to a question had always been pleasant, but is “pleasant” really the ultimate expression of happiness?

Sure, she “loved” her Mom...in some sort of abstract sense as a child loves their parents. Her dad, well… the less said about him the better. Until Harry and Ron, well, frankly, she couldn’t actually seem to engage with people or make friends. To connect with them more than as acquaintances or classmates. Even with the two boys...well mostly with Ron, she sometimes had difficulty understanding their perspectives and caring about what they had to say. 

Harry was a bit of a special case. She’d heard enough about his experiences with the Dursley’s to at least share a sense of camaraderie and kinship with the boy. Even then though, there was something invisible, something she couldn’t make sense of holding her back from truly bonding with him. She did consider him her brother in all but blood, but still struggled to generate the warm fuzzy “love” emotion she’d heard described so often. It was…

Fucking maddening. Like the world was playing a cruel joke on her. Leaving a tasty morsel outside the prison bars, just out of reach of a starving man. 

Hermione had tried to fake it. Put on a face and copy what she saw around her...but to little avail. Her classmates always seeming to catch on to her and excluding her from their friend groups. The brunette had, actually, though she couldn't explain why, felt a deep kinship to the elves. Enough to generate what she thought of as love at least. None of her human friends seemed to care though, so maybe she did something wrong. The elves themselves however, got that look in their eyes. The one she saw in the mirror when she thought about leaving her father's home. No, as much as it saddened her that SPEW never worked, deep in her heart she knew the elves weren't ready, at least not yet. Though the sharpness of that realization had felt like a stab of guilt to the chest. 

...but then who knows, maybe this was her fate, her fault, in some way. Hermione was after all, the only freak she knew of without a soulmate mark. Maybe this was just the way it was, being a creature incapable of love. Fate herself had told her she’d be alone forever. 

Somehow though...somehow she knew, things were changing tonight. She didn’t know how she knew or how things would change. Only that they were going to...and if the excitement pounding in her blood was any indication, she was going to love it. 

Every step, every breath the feeling got bigger, louder and more insistent. As they snuck in through the empty lobby after hours. Down, down into the depths of the unspeakable department. Through mind bending magical rooms, through labs and past creepy jars of brains they ran. The pressure built up and up in her body and blood till Hermione felt she would practically burst at the seems. All of it, pooled and focused at a spot in her brain, just behind her eyes. The energy all collided together at that spot, straining as if barely held back and corralled by some invisible barrier. Hermione grit her teeth against the quickly blooming migraine, clutching her wand in a increasingly painful death grip. 

So focused on just putting one foot in front of the other and swallowing down the grunt of pain wanting to leave her lips, Hermione barely even noticed when the party slowed down. The teen stumbled slightly into Luna as Harry called a halt at the door outside a room labelled “The Hall of Prophecies.”

"This is it! This is where Sirius was in the vision. We've gotta get in!" Harry hissed, bouncing on his feet and starting to work on the lock with the magical pocket knife Sirius gave him for his birthday. 

Hermione's attention was drawn by Luna tapping briefly on her arm. A quick glance over at the teen surprised her. The blondes normally glazed eyes were clear and all to piercing. Her gaze felt uncomfortably keen for some reason. 

"Best be prepared Hermione. The wheel of fate is changing tonight. Going with the flow may be easy, but it's important to remember yourself and plant your own flag." Luna said softly, her voice deep and sonorous. Hermione stared, unfortunately baffled as was all too common around Luna. The brunette merely offered her a blank nod at the cryptic advice. Breaking eye contact for only a second to check how Harry was doing was enough for the girl to return to her normal spacey posture.

“Got it! Come on, lets go, lets go!” Harry shouted after Hermione heard a click and him slamming the door open. The excited crowd of Harry, Ron, Neville, Ginny and Luna all ran through and down a long straight hallway. That left Hermione to painfully bring up the rear. As she stepped foot into the hall, she knew. That the crescendo she was waiting for had arrived. 

Dark lighting and rows upon rows of lowly glowing glass orbs bathed most of the room in shadow and soft blue light. Hermione tried to drag her aching body after her friends down the hall to wherever it was Harry saw in his damn vision. It felt like she was wearing lead shoes while walking in sand though, so she was quickly left behind. Her barely putting one foot in front of the other as her friends ran desperately to follow Harry’s desperate sprint. 

In the spare moments where she could think of something besides her aching brain, she was aware of a growing pulsing sensation within the room. Almost like a heartbeat, getting closer, pumping faster and faster in anticipation. She wasn’t sure how she knew, considering she couldn’t see much of the hall, but she knew they weren’t alone. That she was being watched. By someone she got the strangest sense that she desperately needed to meet.

Faintly, as if through a thick fog, she heard her friends up ahead, Harry exclaimed they’d found the row where Sirius was supposed to be. Ordering the DA members to look around and see if they could find him. Most of her attention was focused however on the faint swish of elegant robes approaching her. The smell of something sweet, something _dark_ and deliciously musky. A lithe arm wrapped around her shoulders and dragged her off the main aisle and into the shadows. Hermione found herself pulled into a chest and nestled into a soft of ever so warm and lovely breasts. Her mind pulled itself apart as she tried to decide how she was feeling. Seemingly torn between feeling ultimate terror or cloying warmth and safety. 

“Oh, muddy, how unfortunate for you. It seems all your ickle wittle friendsies left you all alone. Tut tut. Don’t you know not to wander off alone muddy? You never know what might happen.” A sinfully husky voice taunted in Hermione’s ear. The chest her face was buried in rumbled with amusement before Hermione managed to tear her eyes up to meet red (so lusciously red) lips, and a pair of soulful deep dark brown orbs. Eyes she knew she could lose herself in for days. Eyes that were filled with amusement and framed by the most gorgeous set of wild black curls. Those luscious red lips turned up in the faintest knowing smirk as Hermione realized who exactly she was turning into a puddle of goo over. 

Bellatrix, bloody Lestrange. Notorious death eater, torturer and terrorist. A goddamn woman. A goddamn woman old enough to be her bloody mother. When Hermione had barely even felt a flutter of attraction to any of her peers before. 

...fuck.

...well maybe just once. You know, if the little devilish voice on her shoulder had its way, just to see if she’d like it (well, maybe just a few more times after that just to be certain). 

Earth shattering personal revelations about her sexuality aside, time of course stops for no woman. 

“As much as I’m enjoying the eye fuck mudpet, what’s say we check in with your ickle friends? Get what we came here to do done.” Bellatrix huffed, spinning Hermione around and dragging her down the hall towards the members of the DA. Her friends were currently surrounded by a series of death eaters, Lucius Malfoy at the head was growling for Potter to “Give him the damn prophecy already.”

...double fuck. 

Bellatrix’s wand was shoved roughly into the crook of Hermione’s neck, causing her to hiss in discomfort. Her other hand settled on the skin over Hermione’s right breast. The skin underneath the palm of the dark witches’ hand started to heat up and up under her touch.

“Potter, I’d be a good little boy and hand it over if I were you. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to your wittle muddy friend here now would I?” Bellatrix said with a gleeful cackle. 

The burn under Bellatrix’s hand intensified up and up, beating in tune with the buildup of energy behind her eyes. Hermione’s body filled with heat and it was all she can do to keep standing and try to pay some amount of attention to the horrible situation they were all in. That she got them into. By being weak, slow and stupid enough to get caught.

...triple fuck.

Lost in a haze of pain, heat and magic with eyes closed the brunette heard a vague series of shouts. A deeper voice, insistent and desperate, Harry probably, screaming at Bellatrix, probably to release her. A hissed, terrified exclamation, Ron undoubtedly. He may tend to come through eventually, but he was a bit of a coward at the most unfortunate of times. It’s all too much and not enough at once. That infernal hand brushed across her skin again, flaring the heat higher and higher. It all came to a final crescendo, the moment the night had been building to when…

Something popped, a crack in a damn, in the barrier just behind her eyes. A surge of power and magic burst through the barrier in her brain like a flood of acid. It ate away and dissolved whatever was holding it back. Suddenly an agonized scream tore it’s way out of her throat and her knees buckled. Neat lines of fire traced over the skin above her heart. Burning, so much burning, everywhere, all at the same time. Her fingers felt like they’d been dipped in acid. Her canine’s feel like she’s just had a root canal, pulsing and throbbing. The top of her head and her ears buzzed and throbbed in time with her pounding migraine. Her eyes filled with hot tears as they burnt and burnt and burnt. 

...Her back, oh gods her back. Just below her shoulder blades. She felt the most horrible feeling of constriction, loss and terrible, terrible _wrongness._ Her muscles flexed and shuddered as she bucked and threw up on the ground before the constriction eased. 

It’s too much. It’s all too much too fast and she’s practically catatonic when the sounds of fighting echoed through the room once more. Dimly she’s aware of Ron shouting, sees him pull Harry and the rest away to escape out a door to the back of the room. There’s series of explosions as the DA run before the shelves and shelves of prophecy orbs start to groan and collapse. Hundreds, thousands of glass balls tumble down around them, one bashing Hermione on the back painfully. There’s a tug on her navel as she’s whipped away in a cloud of black smoke, propelled and flying through the room in Bellatrix’s arms. She felt her feat touchdown seconds later and tears her eyes up to see an intimidating circle of death eaters around her. 

“Sweet circe, this is a mess. We absolutely cannot let Potter escape with the prophecy. The Dark Lord will be furious!” Raged Lucius, causing Hermione to shrink back into Bellatrix’s arms. The death eaters around her had their faces contorted in masks of rage and frustration. 

“Unfortunately all too true Lu-Lu.” Chuckled the dark witch holding Hermione. “You, Dolohov and Mcnair try and head them off at the death chamber. The rest of you follow after them and drive them towards it. I’ll catch up in a second after I deal with this one here.” Bellatrix ordered, though she practically purred when she mentioned Hermione. The teen felt a shiver run down her back. One of...fear? It should be fear right? Though it felt altogether too electric for what she typically thought of as fear. s

“Alright, don’t take too long Bella. You heard his orders, the prophecy takes precedence over all, and we’re not to take prisoners. We don’t have time for you to play around with the mudblood toy.” The blonde haired death eater cautioned before he swept out of the room with the rest of the dark wizards. 

The teen found herself spun around once more. She faced those gorgeous lips and dangerous eyes. That bloody pleased smirk irked her as the woman stood in front of her, the picture of power and grace. While for her part, Hermione was probably an unsightly mess. Her head and body were still aching, but the worst of the pain seemed to be over. Her eyes were slowly cleared and she could see every detail of the woman’s perfect skin. Sending her senses out over her body...despite the pain whatever happened made her feel better, more grounded and comfortable in her own skin than she had ever felt before. At least it was some small consolation. She was probably seconds away from either death or torture anyway. At least it would probably be quick. Lucius had said Bellatrix didn’t have time to play with her, not that she wanted to know what that meant. 

Those hard eyes in front of her took in Hermione’s panting form, raking up and down her body. They widened slowly and what seemed like surprise filled them. Hermione became increasingly confused as the older woman brought a shaking hand off Hermione’s shoulder. It crept slowly close to the loose collar of the teen’s muggle t-shirt. Hermione flinched under the touch before registering that it was surprisingly soft, gentle...and almost reverent? 

The gentle hand slowly pushed back the hem of her shirt, although Hermione’s didn’t let her eyes leave her enemy for a second. Her confusion turned to stunned disbelief when she see saw happiness and joy glowing in Bellatrix’s eyes. The gaze of the killer in front of her was practically shining with unshed tears and sentiment. They stood there for she didn’t know how long as the world kept moving around them. The stare between them was weighty and heavy, neither seeming to want to break the moment. 

“Well. I certainly didn’t expect that my sweet pet. Not so muddy after all. Not so muddy indeed. You’ll have to tell me how you pulled it off, right under everyone’s nose.” Bellatrix eventually said, a wry grin on her face. The dark witch chuckled as she brought a hand up to cup Hermione’s cheek and run soft circles on her skin. 

The dark witch’s touch was warm and soothing to the brunette’s overwrought nerves. Hermione quickly found herself hard pressed to avoid leaning into it, despite knowing the fearsome reputation of the woman. The dark witch leaned in and for a moment the brunette almost thought she was going to kiss her. She was torn. Her brain was screaming that whatever was happening was a terrible idea, and that she was a goddamn death eater. Something deeper and more primal within her though practically danced in joy. Hermione was caught up in her mind again and entirely unconscious to an odd series of pleased warbling noises that left her throat. Or the adoring smirk that graced the older woman’s upturned lips. 

However, like it must, the moment soon ended. Renewed screams, explosions and sounds of battle echoed down the halls of the ministry of magic. This time much more directed, focused and louder than a couple of stupid teenagers trying to run away from their pursuers. The black haired witch’s head snapped around, craning to search for threats.

“Pet, I think it sounds like the Order has arrived. We’ve got to get you out of here. It’s not safe. Not as you are now. Follow me.” The dark witch said, her voice whining, urgent and surprisingly... fearful? Though the strange tone brought Hermione a second of pause, she still huffed a bit in irritation. Of course the Order had arrived, and a good thing too. Everything had predictably gone straight to hell (as she’d predicted, once again) and damn is she didn’t think they needed some adults to pull their asses out of the fire. Hopefully the order managed to meet up with Harry and the others to protect them from the rest of the death eaters. Plus, the dark witches’ worries just made no sense to her. The Order was on Hermione’s side, what had she to fear from them? 

The teen witch’s protests and grumbling went largely ignored as she felt herself dragged along behind the older woman. Her hand itched for her wand (which she realized Bellatrix had stashed in her belt when she held her hostage), but whatever momentous, painful event happened in the prophecy chamber had left her incredibly drained and exhausted. It was all she could do to keep her eyes open and stumble along in Bellatrix’s iron grip. Hell, it was an effort even to avoid falling over on her ass and being dragged wherever they were going.

Eventually though, Hermione found herself pulled back into the main entrance hall of the ministry of magic. They came out into the room just beside a giant fountain and imposing statue. Glancing down the long black stone hallway Hermione saw the large glass doors that lead outside to London and her possible chance at freedom. She started to struggle, tugging and pulling feebly at Bellatrix’s arm. However, despite the ravages of Azkaban the death eater was far stronger than her. Bellatrix merely huffed at the display and forcibly pulled her towards the closest floo network connection along the right wall.

The death eater had just thrown the grate open and started up the floo connection when everything, predictably went to shit again. 

“What did you do to Hermione you bloody death eater bitch!! Where is she! Crucio!” Shouted an absolutely incensed Harry Potter from behind her shoulder. 

Knowing her friend was still alive and kicking filled her heart with hope. It was quickly replaced with horror however as her friend broke all his morals by using the unforgivable torture curse. Death eater Bellatrix may have been, but so far she hadn’t really...done anything that bad towards her tonight had she? It even sounded like she’d tried protecting Hermione like she had some weird mistaken idea of protecting Hermione from the Order. Sure she may be sort-of trying to kidnap her at the moment, but was that really worth a crucio? Even aside from the karmic justice angle, she didn’t want to see Harry in Azkaban over her. She knew the minister was just looking for an excuse to wipe their hands of him and this little stunt here was just handing it to him on a silver platter. 

“Harry stop! She’s not worth it, I’m fine!” The teen shouted. Her alarm raised even higher when Harry glanced at her briefly with a confused look of half recognition before refocusing on Bellatrix. Who, bizarrely enough was laughing and slowly threw off the curse and sat up. Apparently none the worse for wear and much to the astonishment of both teens.

“Aww wittle Potter got scared for his friend and broke his unforgivable virginity. How cute, such a pretty moment. You’re missing the key point though boy. If you want to crucio someone, you have to actually _mean_ it. To want to hurt them as much as possible. As for your precious Granger girl, _I_ wasn’t the one to do whatever it was to her, and I sincerely doubt that’s actually her real name.” The dark witch said, her tone mocking and cruel. Harry bristled and prepared himself to launch another verbal salvo at the death eater.

Their confrontation was quickly cut off however. From deeper in the ministry, Voldemort flounced into the hallway, cackling insanely. His Noseless snake face and bright red burning eyes cut a frightful pose. He and Harry spat insults at each other briefly before, to her utter horror, the insane man turned to smoke and spirit. The mass flew towards Harry and buried into his skin. For a second she was confused as to what happened before she worked it out. The sick bastard was seemingly trying to fucking possess Harry like he did Quirrel in first year. Harry’s horrifically pained shouts cut into her heart like a knife to chest, and she just knew they would fuel her nightmares for a good long while. 

Hermione needed help and she needed it fast. Her head swiveled, trying to look for someone, anyone to help save the day. Bellatrix was watching on with rapt attention, her face some odd mix of awe and fear. No help was of course coming from that direction of course. It was then that she caught sight of a set of garish bright orange colorful robes and a long white beard entering through the ministry’s front doors.

Dumbledore.

Now _that_ was a person who might actually be able to help save Harry. In all the chaos Hermione had managed to break away from the dark witch holding her and took off down the hall towards the headmaster’s direction. 

“Professor! Professor! Voldemort is trying to possess Harry or something. Please, you have to help hi-” Hermione started to yell, waving her hands to catch Dumbledore’s attention as the man strode purposefully down the hall. Her shout cut off however and time seemed to slow down to a single moment as she caught his attention.

Mutely, she watched in shock as his expression morphed. It shifted rapidly between a whole host of emotions. Surprise, shock, disgust, rage, hatred. Gone was the loving grandfather demeanor that she’d so needed when she finally got the chance to go to Hogwarts. That had made her feel safe and loved for the first time in so long. That had made her feel like she’d found a place to fit in in a world that never seemed to want her. Gone was the knowing friendly twinkle in his eye. In its place was only growing rage as the headmaster raised his wand and brandished the weapon at his student. 

A flicked glance over Hermione’s shoulder told her Bellatrix was still several meters away and not paying a lick of attention to the confrontation, too wrapped up in her Dark Lord’s battle with Potter. A glance back filled her with trembling fear. The old man fired off a harsh flaring red spell at Hermione before surreptitiously dismissing her from his attention entirely. All in all the headmaster barely broke his stride to cast whatever it was at Hermione before continuing on to oppose Voldemort. 

Hermione’s magic...reacted for lack of a better word. Whatever the spell was, she knew, just _knew_ that she couldn’t let it hit her. Her hand came up and her will clamped down on the burst of magic. Telling it, no _commanding_ it not to hit her. Hermione was shocked when the spell visibly slowed down just enough for her to twist mostly of the way. Still, at such close range, even a startling burst of mostly accidental magic wasn’t near enough to fully protect her so whatever spell the headmaster had cast clipped her left shoulder.

There was a sickly mess of wet cracking sounds, a pained scream (hers she thought, though shock made her brain fuzzy) and something wet pouring down her arm as she fell to the ground. Dazed and in agonizing pain she heard the rumble of the battle around her picking up once more. Then a dismayed feminine cry resounded when Hermione’s pained warbling was noticed.

A warm body hovered over her, the hint of musk and sweat filling her nose. The buzzing of magic surrounded her as she felt herself levitated off the ground and moved towards the floo network. Then she felt heat, smoke and the warm body holding her close and desperate as she stumbled and fell. 

...Then she was spat out of the floo and the pair landed with a heavy crunch on a set of hardwood floors, jarring her injured shoulder.

A last scream of pain erupted from her throat before Hermione’s world exploded and blackness filled her vision.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione wakes up. The exposition train comes into the station and we get a peak at what may be going on behind the scenes of the light and dark sides.

***********************************************  
Hermione felt herself floating in blackness, caught in a sort of half-sleep as she slowly floated closer and closer to awareness. The teen had a hard time focusing on anything beyond floating in a sea of sensation. Her memory was foggy and she only had the barest idea of something...something painful happening. Slowly she felt herself pulled up to greater and greater consciousness as she became increasingly aware of a throbbing ache in her left shoulder. 

Still, whatever it was seemed muted and fleeting. Her brain found it entirely uninteresting to focus on, as it flit about in that familiar way to when she was on pain potions in the infirmary. Instead she was much more enamoured with absorbing the gentle sensations surrounding her. Of the warmth of something (someone maybe?) laying beside her that soaked into her skin. Of the impossibly soft silk sheets surrounding her. Of soft music and the sounds of birdsong filtering vaguely through her brain. 

Until that drugged dozing pleasantness was rudely disrupted by a pouty (yet adorable) high pitched whining voice right beside her ear.

“Cissy! Cissy! She’s not waking up! You said she’d be up by now! What if there’s something else wrong with her?!!! Do something!” Screeched the voice. 

“Good gods Bella. I know you’re excited, but calm yourself. Her body took quite a shock. She’ll be up when she’s ready to, and not a moment longer. The girl is fine and you can wait just a little bit longer!” Came an exasperated but still somehow regal response from another voice, further away in the room. 

“But Cisssssyyyyyy~~~~ I’ve been waiting so long already! Something you didn’t think of could be going wrong! Or may Dumbledickhead fucked her over even more than we thought! Or, or something else!! Worse still, what if she wakes up and hates me?!” Whined the voice, which Hermione thought sounded like it must be accompanied by the most adorable pout. Whoever it was sounded cute in a bratty sort of way that she found vaguely endearing. 

...Still though, rude, screechy mornings must not go unpunished.

“She’d like you a whole goddamn lot more if she didn’t have to stick a boot up your ass for screeching in her ears at bleeding ass o’clock in the morning.” Hermione grumbled with an indignant huff. Or, at least she intended too. It came out as more like an annoyed hoot. Kinda like Hedwig made when Harry forgot to give the snowy owl a treat after delivering a letter. Her brain thought that was vaguely alarming, but worth mulling over...later at any rate. 

Hermione was very pleased when the shouting seemed to pause for a good few moments. The pleasant silence left her free to wriggle back into the warm sheets again and doze some more. She’d been so stressed with Harry and the gang lately. All of them putting so much weight on her shoulders to always have the plan and solution ready. It was nice to relax and sleep in a bit she thought. 

...Hermione was less pleased when after a tremendous breath of air the pouty screeching started up again.

“Cissy, cissy! She’s awake!! She’s awake!” Yelped the first voice, Bella apparently. The shout was accompanied by excited squirming beside her on the bed and the most annoying elbow poking her in the side. She hissed a bit at being distrubed, but it went ignored. She valiantly tried to settle back to sleep, but her brain had started and she was well on the way to being awake again. The name was oddly familiar, though it was entirely too much work for Hermione to place it at the moment. Hermione felt the frown settling in on her face as she tried to place it. 

“I can see that Bella. Settle down Sister, you’ll injure the poor girl further with your fidgeting.” The other voice said in a long suffering tone. Hermione felt an insistent, but gentle hand shaking her shoulder.

“Miss Granger, I take it you are actually awake now? Would you kindly give us your attention to answer some questions and make sure you are well?” Cissy asked cooly but efficiently. 

Groaning and giving up the cause of sleep as a lost one, Hermione grudgingly opened her eyes. The teen hissed at the brightness of the room around her briefly, before she was able to focus on the woman the arm was connected to. Slowly her eyes roved over the form, taking in pale skin, dainty arms, and long, perfectly coiffed platinum hair with dark highlights. Her tasteful, utterly extravagant deep blue robes highlighted her beautiful patrician features.

Hermione blinked once, confused. Twice surprised. Thrice flabbergasted.

“Mrs. Malfoy?!” The brunette teen said with a startled screech, not noticing the surprised flinch of the woman in front of her. The teen tried to push herself back and away from the woman. Knowing that the blood supremacist asswipe probably wanted to do her some sort of mischief in her weakened state. Unfortunately the movement caused her to jostle her shoulder and an unbelievably sharp pain shot through her shoulder and she let out a moan of pain. 

“Cunting blooming fuck that hurts. What the bloody fuck is going on?” Hermione said gruffly. She was honestly a little surprised at herself over her own use of profanity. Normally she was too self conscious to really let loose with the language that was often on the tip of her tongue. Something about just letting loose in that moment felt so freeing and empowering though, so she honestly didn’t even regret it. Though, if the slightly pinched look on Mrs. Malfoy’s face was anything to go by, she may live to regret it yet. 

“You were involved in the battle at the ministry last night. You were badly injured. A particularly nasty version of the bone breaking hex hit you in the shoulder. Most of the bones were shattered and turned to shrapnel inside your body. If you had been hit anywhere else or if my dear sister-” The blonde matriarch paused inclining her head at the black haired beauty sharing Hermione’s bed. “Was any slower at getting you here you would have bled out. Given who shot the spell at you Bellatrix thought it safest to bring you to the Malfoy manor for medical treatment.” She finished explaining.

Though, that just created more and more questions for Hermione. Her brain felt like wool as they all got tangled up in her throat. Especially when she took a second to really look at the dark haired witch sharing her bed and realize the sister in question was actually Bellatrix Lestrange. Dumbfounded, she stared off into space as she tried to process all the nonsensical information hitting her brain. She vaguely remembered pain and running last night, and...well, Dumbledore with hatred in his face. Him shooting the spell that did her in. Doding mostly out of the way but still getting clipped. Hermione clenched her hands into tight fists, wincing when she felt her nails pierce her skin. 

It just didn’t make sense. Why would a man so well thought of and close to all of them just decide to off her. In the middle of the bloody ministry no less. 

“Miss Granger, if you would answer a few questions so we can make sure you’re alright before continuing this discussion. Now, most of the damage was centered in your shoulder and arm. How are your pain levels for those areas? Are you aware of anything else that hurts or needs treating?” The elegant blonde asked in a carefully neutral doctor tone. 

Baffled by Draco goddamn stuck up brat Malfoy’s mom being positively pleasant and caring it took Hermione a second to actually think up the answer to her question.

“Uhh, g-good. I’m doing okay Mrs. Malfoy. The shoulder throbs a bit here and there, but when I’m not moving it's not too distracting. My head feels a bit fuzzy though. I suspect I’ve had a few pain potions then?” Hermione said.

“Indeed, but call my Narcissa dear. The confusion is normal, but do let me know if the symptoms are too distracting or the pain ramps up again. Despite all that Gryffindor brashness, you are a teenager and don’t need to be a hero. Now-” Mrs. Malfoy said as she gave Hermione a strangely stern yet caring look. Suddenly all of this was just too goddamn much for Hermione’s fuzzy brain to handle. 

“I’m sorry, but what the bloody hell is going on? Why are you being so nice to me Mrs. Malfoy? Why did Bellatrix bloody Lestrange of all people save me? I think I remember Dumbledore of all people blasting me last night. What is it, opposite day or something?!” Hermione said, blurting out a stream of questions as thy hit her consciousness. She reddened and blushed at the shocked look on the two witches faces.

“Opposite day?” Narcissa asked, surpsingly struck dumb by the barrage of questions.

“A...a muggle expression.” Hermione said before she remembered she was in practically the seat of pureblood supremacy and blushed a deep red colour. 

“Oh she’s cute when she’s blushing, isn’t she Cissy! Don’t you worry about a thing pet, It’s going to be Bellatrix Black again very soon. I’d been meaning to give Rod the divorce papers for over a decade, but Azkaban has this whole thing against giving inmates access to lawyers. They prefer soulsucking terrors to be the only interaction inmates ever have with other beings.” Bella said, laying a surprisingly soft and warm hand on Hermione’s knee. For whatever reason though, the gentle squeeze the dark witch gave her...actually reassured Hermione quite a lot. She felt in a better frame of mind to ask a few more questions with the subtle gesture.

“Okay, uh, good to know, but maybe not quite the most important question. Why are you both being so nice to me? I thought you hated people like me? Muggleborns?” The teen witch asked, her voice tremulous and unsure. Her anxiety levels rose up a bit when both women seemed a bit taken aback.

“Pet, I know it’s sudden but you can drop the act now. Whatever you were using to hide seems to have worn off.” Bella said, her face a picture of sincerity before she pointed between the two sisters. “We both know what you are.” The dark witch continued as her face took on a strange, wistful expression. 

“Act? What I am? What are you talking about?” Hermione said, her heartbeat picking up as anxiety filled her system.

“That you’re actually one of the Fae Hermione. Some type of raptor I expect, owl if I’m not mistaken by your plumage. Somehow you’re miraculously alive and safe even after so many years with the Order in charge. It’s a bit of a miracle actually. We thought you were all dead or had fled the country. Not that I’d blame you if you had.” The dark haired witch said, her voice thick with emotion. Hemione had to turn away at the intensity of both witches gaze. It was too much. 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Hermione huffed. “I’m human, not some foot tall tinker bell whisking kids away to adventure.” 

A silence settled over the room, allowing Hermione to steal a glance at Bella again. She flinched at the wounded expression in the dark witches stance. Though she didn’t know why for some reason that expression on the dark witches face made her feel supremely unsettled,

“You really don’t know do you?” The woman breathed out airily, her face completely stunned. Hermione had to duck her head in a moment of self conscious embarrassment. She hated not having the answer to something. Especially something that was clearly important and related to her own well being and status. A tense silence settled into the room briefly.

“Wait a second! Cissy, I think I remember hearing about the old goat working on something back at the end of the first war. How thorough were your diagnosis spells? Did you check down to her magical core?” The dark haired witch said urgently as she gestured her sister forward. 

Hermione found herself losing focus and becoming a bit distracted watching Bella’s teeth worry her full lips. Though she came out of it when Narcissa waved her wand in a complicated spell the teen half recognized from her reading ahead into healing (knowing first aid was important when you’re best friends with the damn boy-who-lived). Especially when the blondes face fell into an expression full of worry and disgust. 

“I think I see what you mean dear sister. There’s residue from some extremely dark curse attached directly to the girls magical core. I think whatever happened last night broke through the curse, so it’s a little hard to get a good reading on what exactly it was doing. It looks like it’d been there for awhile though. Probably since infancy.” The healer explained with a very worried frown. 

“Morgan’s bloody tits. The old goat fucker actually did it. Yet more reason to goddamn murder the sick bastard.” Bella said, as a deep growl rumbled in her chest. The dark witch violently scratched her fingers through her hair in agitation. 

“Okay, one of you had better start actually explaining things right the fuck now! What bloody curse are we talking about?! What are the fae?” Hermione screeched indignantly. She felt surprisingly pleased when both women flinched and brought their attention back to her. 

“The honored Fae-” Narcissa said pointedly when it seemed like Bella was too agitated to properly respond. “Are a race of magical creatures that are particularly revered in the old ways. Which are, of course, the main religion of the ancient pureblood houses of Britain. According to legend, muggles first became witches and wizards through noble union with the Fae. Pureblood marriage serves to maintain the noble blood of the Fae and ensure the continued existence of magical folk.” The blonde explained in a monotonous tone. She sounded like she was reciting an explanation verbatim from childhood or a textbook. Which, Hermione thought after a second, was probably true if this was the religion she was raised in. 

“Okay. That’s very interesting and I would love to talk more about that and why none of that is covered in any of the classes or reading material I’ve found on wizarding culture. However, what does that have to do with me?” The teen asked, though she was loath to move the subject of her curiosity away from a new topic. 

“Pet, the Fae...they aren’t exactly like the fairies, pixies and sprites you’re familiar with in your course readings. They are ancient spirits of nature and magic. Humanoid beings with animal aspects. They were magic incarnate and able to shift forms at will. Ever wondered where things like the animagus transformation or metamorphmagus abilities come from? Those were traits inherited from the Fae. How it relates to you...well, have a look.” The dark haired witch explained, having finally calmed down. With a wave of her wand Bellatrix conjured up a floating mirror in front of the teen witch.

After a second of stunned disbelief, Hermione couldn’t help but gasp when realized the reflection was actually her. Gone were the whiskey eyes and the impossibly frizzy brown hair. Her pupils rounded out and were bigger than before. Those large pitch black pools were surrounded by a predatory golden iris. Her brunette hair was still wild and bushy, but was now gorgeously dappled with specks of black and golden colouring. Soft tufts of downy golden feathers spread out over her scalp and into her hairline. They unconsciously and effortlessly shifted with her expression, puffing up in a surprisingly intimidating way as she grew more irritated. 

...Shocked and processing, Hermione honestly didn’t know how to feel. Idly the teen thought she thought she looked kinda adorable. She was certainly more striking than she remembered. Her face also seemed much more expressive than before, which she definitely appreciated. Slowly feeling more and more pleased with the transformation, her lips quirked up a bit in a smile.

...wait, were those fangs?!!

Hermione brought a hand up to pull her lips over her gums to get a better look. Yup. She thought. Those were definitely fangs. A wickedly sharp looking series of teeth protruded down from her top lip around where her canines used to be. Bringing her hand up into view also made Hermione squawk when she noticed the longer sharpened claws where her nails used to be. The talons lending a distinctly more dangerous aspect to her look. 

Hermione had to take a series of deep breaths to contain the impending panic attack. She ruthlessly shoved all the questions of why and how she had never known she wasn’t human to the back of her mind. Quickly she turned her attention back to the two witches who were fidgeting anxiously and waiting for her reaction.

“Okay, so, let's say I accept that I’m somehow a Fae despite growing up human. What happened last night? Dumbledore outright tried to kill me, while you all seem to have turned on a dime and decided to save me instead. What the fuck happened?” Hermione eventually asked, her hair fluffing up sternly as she glared at Bellatrix.

“Hermione, that’s…a bit of a long story and gets to the heart of the reasons behind the first war. I know Draco has complained numerous times about the material taught at Hogwarts being heavily censored. Suffice it to say, after Grindlewald’s failed takeover of the muggle world, several powers from the continent moved into Britain. With Albus at the helm they preached a universalist doctrine heavily influenced by Christian theology. Essentially arguing magic was just randomly gifted by god to the children of men.” Narcissa explained slowly, as her lips curled in distaste. All the while Bellatrix nodded along distractedly, while Hermione gave the blonde her rapt attention. 

“Yes yes. Take your pick of what happened afterwards though. Strategic elimination of an opposing factions power base, religious crusade or fascist purge but in the end, Fae were being disappeared or killed left and right. The ministry was doing nothing or outright helping cover it all up. The Knights of Walpurgis were originally formed when the Dark Lord discovered evidence that the Order was behind the purges. Protecting the Fae was the whole reason for the rebellion. At least, initially anyway.” Bellatrix cut in, her eyes and voice were dark and humming with anger. Hermione shivered at the hint of violence in the dark witches tone. Clearly the echoes of the first war were still close to the surface

“By the end of the war the Fae had been all but wiped out or driven from the country, which was why I was so surprised to see you last night.Though of course that was only half the reason for bringing you back pet. Gotta make sure my cute soulmate is safe after all.” Bellatrix said with a teasing smirk and a gentle nudge. Hermione blinked owlishly, trying to process that statement before giving her an annoyed hoot.

“Oh, hah-bloody-hah. Make fun of the ugly freak girl without a soulmark why don’tcha. Not anything I haven’t heard before, though it’s distinctly childish of you. I’d expected something a bit more refined from you-know-who’s bloody right hand.” Hermione huffed, visibly bristling with indignation. 

The black sisters in front of her shared a brief heated glance before Bellatrix leaned forward. The dark haired beauty pulled the hem of her shirt down across her chest, showcasing her ample cleavage. Hermione’s eyes however were drawn to the beautifully rendered depiction of a raven and owl flying around each other that hovered just above Bella’s collarbone. It was breathtakingly beautiful and done in vivid detail. The raven seemed to playfully nip at the owls wings on the way to adventure. 

“Look familiar pet?” Bella said with a shit eating grin. The dark witch made a little hand gesture to the teens own chest.

Sure enough, when Hermione cast her eyes down to herself she saw a matching soulmark tattoo across her own skin. Her eyes immediately misted with tears and her throat closed up with shuddering emotion. A wave of (perhaps illogical) validation hit her, as she realized that maybe she might not be alone anymore. It hit her all at once, stronger than she’d felt almost anything before. Shock, giddy happiness, disbelief and just goddamn relief all tangled up in her brain. It was more than she could really process at once.

“That...that wasn’t there b-before.” Hermione said, her voice tremulous and shuddering. “H-how?” She asked brokenly. 

“If I may pose a hypothesis Miss Granger.” Narcissa said with a soft sympathetic voice.

“Earlier my sister referred to some research Dumbledore was rumoured to have done back in the first war. As I recall, the old goat had been looking into a way to suppress Fae blood and powers rather than slaughtering them wholesale. You know, as a kindler, gentler way to commit genocide.” The blonde said, huffing at the vanity of such an idea. 

“Such a thing was still absolutely abhorrent. I can’t even imagine how one would go about it, but if they did. Well, it would involve a vicious curse binding the victims magic and soul at an absolutely fundamental level. Fae are beings that are fundamentally not human. Pretending otherwise is foolish. I can’t imagine you wouldn’t see some strange side effects if one was successful. Perhaps the loss of your soulmark was one of them.” The blonde explained, looking to Bellatrix for confirmation of her theory. 

“Yeah, that sounds about right. The Dark Lord had asked me to look into it in case we had to reverse such a curse in the future. The bindings he’d have to place on your soul would definitely have some sort of impact with the mating process. He might even have gone out of his way to get rid of the soulmark as well. I think last night us touching and starting the bond was what broke down Dumbledick’s curse. I can’t imagine he’d make it easy to find your soulmate if that was all it took to counteract his curse.” The dark witch said as she bit her lip in concentration. 

Finally the dam burst in Hermione. The situation was all suddenly too real and all too extreme. Much as she wished it was a lie...Dumbledore had positioned himself as her mortal enemy without so much as a by your leave. The thought was absolutely abhorrent. Of Harry’s parents, the Weasleys or any of the other nice, good people she’d seen in the Order taking part in...well, genocide was the word for it. It was...hard to process, to combine these two side of the people she knew. While she didn’t doubt the two women were at least...telling their side of the truth, she needed to know more. Still, she knew she was at her limit for processing right now. Her shoulder hurt, her brain was fuzzy and she’d been hit with an absolute barrage of information. 

“Okay, for now I acknowledge that being here is probably best for me for now. Let's put a pin in this whole discussion though, because I’m sure I’ll have some _very_ important questions when I have more energy. Especially getting to actually talk about being soulmates with the notorious Bellatrix Black. Is there anything else pressing or can I pass out again?” Hermione said tiredly as she slumped back into the bed. 

“In a moment Miss Granger. I’d like for you to have something to eat before we let you rest for a bit.” Narcissa ordered, looking faintly amused at Hermione’s grumpiness. Idly, Hermione wondered if she might end up growing on the older woman. After all, if the soulmate bond worked out, they might actually become...sisters in law? God, that would be a head trip, to be Draco’s auntie Hermione. 

Quickly the blonde witch snapped her fingers for a house elf to bring a tray with thick creamy soup and thick fresh baked bread. Hermione scowled a bit, but decided commenting would be a bit presumptuous at the moment. She was after all, in their house and care for the foreseeable future. The fae witch was just settling in to tuck in to the quite delicious meal when Bellatrix hissed in apparent pain. The dark witch doubled over and clutched her right arm, right where Hermione knew the dark mark was. 

“Sorry pet, he’s calling me, probably about the giant mess that happened last night. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Get some rest my sweet.” Bella said stiffly, even as she took the time to place a gentle kiss on Hermione’s brow before she left. The teen blushed and watched as the dark haired witch hopped out of bed and practically ran out of the room.

An uneasy feeling caused Hermione’s stomach to start churning with anxiety, especially when she noticed the concerned frown settling in on Narcissa’s face. 

Not that there was really anything she could do at the moment. She was after all injured...and soulmate to one of the darkest witches of her age. Marching up to ye olde mouldyshorts and punching him in the nose may be an appealing fantasy, but was as of yet still just a fantasy. 

...Perhaps with time it might become reality though.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellatrix faces down the dark lord and comes to some important personal decisions.

*************************************************  
Inconsiderate. Brash. Headstrong. Impulsive. Manic. Dark. Sadistic. Violent. Ruthless. Insane. Rabid. 

Bellatrix Black had been called many things in her life. Most of them unkind. Said fondly, but laced with her sister’s exasperated exhaustion after one too many fits of pique. Said with her mother’s stern disappointment after every ball where Bella brought yet more ‘shame upon the family.’ Shouted with rage by her father whenever he had a drink or five too many to control his temper. Jeered across the great hall of Hogwarts. Shouted violently over the battlefield. Screamed through tears across a mostly empty courtroom where she wasn’t allowed to testify in her own defense. 

One thing she’s never been called though, is stupid. Or vapid. 

Back in the day, she was widely considered the brightest witch of her own age. Well read. Highly educated. Magically powerful. Frighteningly attractive and magnetically captivating. 

No, stupid was never a word that was used to describe her. 

Though, most wouldn’t think of her as particularly politically conscious. That was certainly one of her parents favorite sticks to beat her with after all. She was too brash. She committed faux pas in every other sentence. She intimidated and scared off valuable suitors and matches left and right. They used to shout all the time about how she failed to understand how the politics of pureblood society worked. 

They were wrong though. She understood the power dynamics inherent in every single interaction at those innumerable and untolerable functions. Knew whenever a man was making overtures for her hand. Knew what were considered good matches. Knew that the matches expected a certain level of subservience from the objects of their eyes. She knew every single button that if poked would be liable to piss them off and bring on yet another lecture from her parents. 

Bellatrix knew. She just didn’t give a single flying fuck. It was all, in a word...horseshite. 

Bella always admired Cissy above almost all others. Despite the Bella’s reputation for fanaticism, Cissy was the truly determined Black sister. The one possessed with the strongest of iron wills. 

Once the blonde set her mind on something, absolutely nothing would stop her from accomplishing it. Not even if it took 20 years. Where Bella’s stubborn pride and refusal to lower herself got in the way, Cissy was able to jettison all of that the second if it got in the way of a goal she was determined to accomplish. She was always the one who had the patience to work behind the scene. To fluff the egos of the silk wearing peacocks. To weave truly Slytherin plots where people who just happen to think of ideas of her own making. Never the wiser of who actually planted the seed with a series of seemingly innocuous comments. 

Despite that lack of care and patience, tonight Bella needed to channel her sister’s fierce determination and patience for the crucial hour to come. Her arm burned from the dark mark’s summons. She raced through the manor to the meeting of the Dark Lord’s inner circle. Hoping, praying, for him to be in as kindly a mood as possible. Planning, scheming for when she knew he’d inevitably rage out of all control or reason. Yet again.

For how indeed, do you convince a madman that his enemies aren’t necessarily out to get him? That he should not exact violent retribution on a girl for her significant contributions to stymying his return for years? 

Finally the dark witch found herself outside the dark oak doors of the Malfoy manor dining room that was host to tonight’s Death Eater meeting. She took a deep breath and shored up her occlumency shields. The dark witch concentrated to unclench her muscles and let some of the tension bleed out of her shoulders, though not to much. She steeled her spine just enough to show resolve and pride, but also kept her chin and gaze low. It was just enough to appear humble and submissive to his will. It was a pose she’d become well practiced in during the last war, and she’d not lost it despite the ravages of Azkaban. 

Then without waiting a further second (hesitation would just make the explosion of temper even more likely) the woman pushed her way into the room. 

The Dark Lord sat upon a high backed chair, raised on a throne like platform as he held court over his subjects. His blood red eyes and hideous noseless face practically radiated vicious anger as it snapped from the room to her. Taking a deep breath Bella let her eyes dance through the room, assessing and alert for threats. She disdainfully took in the quivering and fearful forms of her sister’s peacock and the rest of the inner circle. Each tried to shrink beneath the dining table like frightened children without seeming obvious about it. Clearly all the overstuffed poppinjays were aware of their failure and the inevitable consequences of their Lord’s wrath. 

Bellatrix honestly had to work hard to keep the sneer off her face and her thoughts still behind her occlumency barriers. It wouldn’t do at all for the creeping tendrils of her Lords mind magic to poke through and see all of the Dark Witches’ naughty little secrets. 

And there were many. Oh there were. 

“Bella. You, like the rest have failed me. The prophecy was destroyed. You disobeyed my direct orders that the boy was to come before everything. That no prisoners were to be taken. You have failed me.” Voldemort said in a restrained hiss. 

Bella didn’t bother responding. It wasn’t a question after all. She only made sure her tongue was out of the way so she wouldn’t bite through it as the flames of her lords cruciatus slammed into her chest and blasted her off her feet. 

Pain, horrible, burning pain consumed her as her muscles thrashed around out of control. There was no control or composure, merely animalistic instinctual reaction. Still, despite the agony, Bella stubbornly held onto her pride. Despite the sensation of burning knives stabbing through every pore of her body, Bella refused to be anything other than stone silent in her suffering. She wouldn’t give the pompous cunts assembled the pleasure of seeing her break. Besides, she’d seen (and been subjected to) enough punishments to know her Lord would only prolong the punishment if she did.

Ages later, it stopped. It was so sudden Bella almost couldn’t believe the sheer relief she felt. Her lungs sucked in a gulping breath. The dark witch sluggishly heaved herself up from her back onto her side. Her hands, bloody and trembling from clawing desperately at the floor, were needed to help support her weight as she sought to move to a low kneel. Despite keeping herself low and meek, she chanced a glance up to the rest of the room. Predictably, the cunts had fucking satisfied smirks on their bloody cowardly faces. 

Every. Single. One. His Dark scaliness included.

Anger burned white hot through Bella, though she managed to clench her fist and just barely keep it from her face. She did, after all, know the fragility of her position. Despite the press and propaganda out there, Bellatrix was far from the Dark Lord’s right hand. Hell, she wasn’t even part of the inner circle. 

Her relatively high rank in the death eaters was due to her being one of his most outwardly loyal and longest serving death eaters, but her elevation to his right hand in the eyes of the public was mostly symbolic. Propaganda, spread by the dark elevated her to claim the movement was enlightened and egalitarian by uplifting women. Propaganda, spread by the light, played up her insanity, power and position in the death eater ranks. It told the public of the dangerous nature of the dark side. How it was placing women above their rightful places in society which _naturally_ caused chaos and destruction. 

Bellatrix knew that deep down, regardless of dark or light, powerful wizards, tended to be misogynist bastards. Bella may be from the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, but in the grand scheme of things she had little in the way of power or resources. Sirius controlled the family wizengamot seats and most of the fortune. Her parents did leave her enough money to live incredibly comfortably just in case, but it was nothing like the vast horde of the main Black vault. Her marriage contract with Lestrange may have secured their alliance to the family, but he retained control over his own vaults. Even after a divorce. 

With little to no political power and clout, finite wealth and a severe lack of a cock (and thus, respectability in the eyes of many wizards) Bellatrix had almost no power in wizarding society. Despite her famed magical knowledge and feared fighting skills. She was seen as little more than an attack dog. Trusted to lead raids and battles, but to let the adults figure out how to win the war. 

And if there was one thing the Death Eaters believed in, it was that power was more important than anything else. 

Despite forming the Knight of Walpurgis for the noble cause of combating the slaughter of the fae, Voldemort, Bella knew, was not fighting a righteous war. The Dark Lord’s little boys club study group formed the core of the following Death Eater movement. Despite his claims of being enlightened above petty human foibles, Bella knew Voldemort couldn’t help but pick up bits and pieces of his peers views and biases. Nor did he even attempt to curtail their behavior if it didn’t impact his precious war. 

Day in day out they snickered together, bragged about their conquests in one breath and sneered down their noses at the “sluts” in the next. Fighting for a “noble” cause stroked their egos, even as it lined their pockets. Having fresh fae blood in the family ensured one’s children would be magically powerful, regardless of the ravages of inbreeding. Fighting to protect the innocent turned to ensuring their control and dominance in wizarding society as the fae became rarer and more elusive. Even before the purges, fewer and fewer fae deigned to take lovers outside their communities. Especially as, drunk off their own power, death eaters began to use violence and torture more and more. Often just for fun, rather than any specific purpose in the war. 

By the end of the first war and to this day Bella can’t honestly say she recognizes even a hint of that well meaning purpose that caused her to join the dark side in the first place. Not to say she was ever entirely pure in her motives. After all, she needed an excuse to spend less time around Rod for her own safety and sanity. 

Speaking of, a glance up to the table showed the sad, evil little prick was amongst those delighted and snickering to see Bella torn down and punished for their own fucking failures this night. A shit eating grin was on his face even as Voldemort’s hateful glare bore into her. 

“Explain. If you’re lucky, maybe I won’t kill you for your failure.” The Dark Lord hissed.

“My Lord.” Bella rasped, her voice thick with residual pain. “Other urgent responsibilities required my attention. My failure was in trusting that Malfoy and his cronies could take care of a bunch of school children on their own while I addressed them.” The dark witch explained, keeping her voice low and unchallenging. 

It didn’t help, or at least didn’t help enough. At least this time when Voldemort hissed in rage, his cruciatus only lasted a second or two, rather than what was probably a minute the first time.

“And what, pray tell, was an urgent enough responsibility to require you to disobey a direct order.” Voldemort spat when it was over.

I-” Bella began, after steadying her breath as her panting resumed in the wake of the curse. “Discovered evidence that the old goat was successful in binding the powers and hiding some of the fae, instead of killing them al as we thought. I managed to break the binding on one and extracted her to safety before the Order of the Phoenix could retaliate and kill her.” Bella said, holding back the smirk as stunned and excited whispers started throughout the room. Chancing a look up at her Lord, Bella saw the rage had subsided for now, and been replaced with a thoughtful and… _frighteningly_ hungry look. 

“Potter’s mudblood?” He eventually asked, probably having been appraised of who exactly Bellatrix stole into the manor during the battle. 

“Indeed. She grew up with no idea she grew up with no idea she was...more.” The dark witch hastily added. She had to suppress a flinch at the ecstatic cackling laugh that started to echo from his throat. A bad feeling pooled itself in her gut. The sort of swooping dread that came from diving off a particularly high cliff. 

“Excellent. Truly excellent news. The latest generation of dark children has truly been a disgrace. Insipid, stupid, weak, inbred and lazy. Fresh fae blood is sorely needed to reinvigorate our chosen. Gentlemen, gather your wives! Tonight we shall revel and father a new generation!” The tyrant shouted with glee to the resounding cheers of the assembled inner circle. 

Meanwhile, sheer terror and panic overcame Bella. Soulmate or not, Bella letting Hermione be passed around the table tonight was not happening. She still held to the old rites, honored the fae and cared for more than just her own power and enjoyment. Carefully, oh so carefully she waited for the cheers to die down before interjecting as politely as she could.

“My lord. If it please you, may I make a suggestion?” The dark witch said, earning pointed glares from the room at having interrupted their fun. Despite the dark glower Voldemort shot her, she bravely soldiered on and continued.

“The fae may have chose to avoid fighting personally in the last war, but purposefully and freely given fae blood remains one of the most powerful and rare magic reagents in the world. If we had access to a source of it we could conduct rituals powerful enough to sway the tide of the war. We could break through any ward, strengthen our magical power or curse the very land our enemies reside on.” Bellatrix explained, holding back a smirk at the intrigued look flashing in her lords horrid burning eyes. 

“Dumbledore already tried to kill her last night and cast her out from the light. He has lied to her and manipulated her her whole life. No doubt he’ll turn all her friends against her in short order as well. I’m also-” Bellatrix explained, taking a deep breath to steel her nerves again. In for a penny, in for a pound. “Her soulmate.” She spat, the word echoing like a gong in the spacious room.

“What exactly are you suggesting dear Bella?” The dark lord said, even as his legilimency probes slammed into Bella’s mind once again. Assessing her truthfulness and loyalty. 

It was moments like these Bella was glad of how powerful wizards tended to underestimate the ingenuity of even brilliant witches. Despite her legendary magical skills, she was still thought of as something of a blunt object. A mad dog to sick on the order and wreak havoc. All along, even her Lord never realized just how accomplished the Black sisters were at the more esoteric and subtle of magics.

With utmost skill and practice she carefully managed her occlumency barrier. Normally by clearing one's thoughts using instinctual magic, one could avoid giving away any information to the enemy. However, a legilimens as skilled as Voldemort would easily note the lack of emotion in the target's mind. Bella however, had refined her technique enough to selectively cull and mix her thoughts and emotions, holding others behind the barriers in her mind.

Even if it did make her behavior seem a little mad at times, it was worth it for situations like these. 

The loyalty, and devotion she let float up for inspection was accompanied by thoughts of her ”wonderful” dark lord. Even if the feeling was actually generated from a thought of her bushy haired soulmate, asleep and trusting her to keep her safe. Meanwhile disdain and a sense of sadistic determination was accompanied with thoughts of her soulmate vulnerable, ripe for the picking of the dark side. Even if the feeling was generated by a particularly pleasant fantasy of slicing Rod’s goddamn prick off and feeding it to him. 

It worked. The probe left her mind and Voldemort nodded in satisfaction. 

“What exactly do you propose dear Bella?” Voldemort said with a sickly conspiratorial smile. The dark witch had to suppress a shudder at the tone. 

“Hold off the revel till the end of the summer and let me work on her unmolested. I’m sure I’ll be able to seduce the chit to the dark. Foolish schoolgirls believe in the power of love after all. Give me that time and I’ll have her eating out of your hand. She’ll give herself willingly to the dark, win us the war in months instead of years and then you can have her for what you will.” Bellatrix said, her voice sonorous and confident. She let honesty and determination float up through her thoughts for his perusal, even as the sick words tasted of bile on her tongue. 

Voldemort grinned and cackled once more. Bella had to resist the urge to throw up as she saw his eyes light up with what she knew would be a suitably awful new idea. 

“Bella, my dear, your viciousness never ceases to amuse me. Very well, you shall have your months. You will however, not just seduce her. You will convince the fae to marry you. I will provide a bonding ritual that will allow you to ensure her compliance even after the war is won. Now go. Succeed and you shall be rewarded beyond your wildest dreams.” The tyrant ordered with a dismissive wave before spinning back to ascend his throne. 

The dark witch couldn’t help letting the smallest of relieved breaths escape. Time, she had time to figure something out. 

“My lord, what about me? Bellatrix is already married, and our betrothal contract clearly states I should have first right to bed any soulmates she should find. As is my right as her lord husband.” Bella’s pissant bloody, bellend of a husband had the gall to interject with. The dark witch was sorely tempted to whip her wand out and crucio his bloody prick off. 

“You heard her Rodolphus. The girl is a silly schoolgirl. She’d hardly take kindly to your particular...tastes. No, Bellatrix is the one to complete this mission. You shall complete and accept that divorce I know you’ve been wanting from the, what was it again, “frigid bitch” I believe. In return, I assure you that you will be first in line for a taste once the tart’s suitably docile and bound.” Voldemort explained, grinning at the mollified affirmation on Bella’s sick fuck of a husbands smarmy face.

Over her fucking dead body. 

Bella may have had to draw blood from clenching her hands, but she kept perfectly still and complacent. She waited for the conversation to turn back to planning next steps now that the prophecy had been destroyed before she was eventually dismissed a few minutes later. Like a child while the adults talked about the business of actually winning the war.

She turned and strode out of the room, maintaining as much dignity as possible after sustaining two powerful crucio’s in one evening. Her heels clicked on the polished floors as she strode with single minded purpose. Within minutes she let herself into a familiar bedroom. Her wand flicked out in a series of incredibly complicated but familiar set of wards that would let in nobody but her sister. The same ones that she had been putting on her bedroom since she’d been married all those years ago.

Bellatrix sank to her knees and let out a shaky breath even as tears misted in her eyes. Her hands reached out to gently cup the delicate cheeks of her sleeping soulmate. She ran her fingers through the soft down feathers in Hermione’s hair. She couldn’t help the watery grin at the soft sleepy but pleased hoots the woman made under her touch. Bellatrix just...stared. She let herself be lost in the comfort of the shapely body under her palms. The slow rhythmic rise and fall of her chest. The warmth of soft skin and silk sheets. 

Suddenly the woman in her arms turned over. Hermione’s arms shot out and curled around Bella’s chest. The dark witch couldn’t help a startled squeak as the teen turned into a koala and hugged the dark witch close. Suppressing a laugh Bella took the hint and slipped in beside Hermione though she was careful to avoid waking her up fully. 

Bella was wired, totally unable to sleep despite the late night of fighting and stressful meeting. She sat awake and stared at the ceiling. Planning. Thinking. Strategizing. 

After all, betraying a Dark Lord, particularly with worse than no help coming from the other side of the war is risky business. Plus, she had a fucking brand and tracking spell in her arm. If she needed to Bella was fully prepared to hack the damn thing off, but she dearly hoped that wouldn’t be necessary. After all this time of holding her silence and hiding her anger, she’d thought of a few ideas. Some, made infinitely more practical by the woman curled up in her arms.

Still, she needed a plan. 

Wouldn’t do to go into things half cocked after all. It wasn’t like she was some stupid testosterone soaked dick monster. It was time to do something good for once. Regardless of what it took.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old goat schemes. The girls fluff about and talk

********************************************  
It was with a heavy sigh and pained groan that one Albus Dumbledore dropped himself into his high backed chair after a truly exhausting day. No longer was he the sprightly and powerful young wizard that had taken the reins of magical Britain by force. For the greater good, of course. Now he was older, wizer and ironically enough for the Gryffindor, far more cunning. 

Yet still, sometimes the enemy must steal a march on even the most prepared of generals. Unfortunately just such a march had upended his carefully wrought plans, countermoves and strategies. The growing weight of the world leaned heavily on him. In need of comfort, the wizened wizard decided to partake in a rare indulgence. Slowly he fished around in the headmaster's desk. Skillfully he popped open the false bottom on the third drawer from the right, and he fished out a bottle of fine brandy to soothe his mounting frustration with the world.

It had all been going so goddamn _well_ too. 

Harry had been safe with the Dursleys all these years behind unbreakable wards. The prophecy child grew up away from the toxic influence of fame that would have made his ultimate sacrifice unreliable at best. He came into the wizarding world with a lovely meek attitude and with an appreciation for the downtrodden he would need to sacrifice himself to save. 

As Dumbledore had fully expected and believed, Tom was back. However, this time he came with a horrifying serpentine form to match his pitch black soul. While some might quake in fear of the sight, the cagey headmaster was positively gleeful. The horrifying pictures that hit the paper after the battle would swell the ranks of the order tremendously and kickstart the war effort. Despite the best efforts of the dark, the prophecy remained protected, so the dark wizard would be going into the war blind. If all went to plan, Dumbledore and Harry would be able to find the Horcruxes and finish this godforsaken war once and for all in just a few short years. 

At least, that’s what should have happened. 

Despite being altogether sure that he’d taken care of the problem at the Ministry, Dumbledore had decided to check the Hogwarts ledger, just to be sure. All current students were tracked within. The list magically updated in case of death or transfer. Sure enough, Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry still thought it taught one Hermione Jean Granger. 

Once again, the Fae were prepared to ruin everything the light worked towards. The filthy beasts were always out to corrupt the hearts of the good and noble. To upend carefully laid plans and strategies with the cruel “tricks” they called justice. It was just like with Gellert and Arianna all those years ago. Poor, sweet noble Gellert. Taken and corrupted far too young by the Fae’s insidious influence. 

Where had he gone wrong? He was sure the binding on Hermione still held strong all these years. He’d personally and with Madam Pomfrey’s help kept a careful watch on her. At no point did she show any indication of regaining her powers, form or memories. Nor any inclination to the darkness he knew now had to be rushing through her veins. By all accounts she was a kind and driven individual, if a bit emotionally distant at times. Though, both of the staff had always just written that off as the influence of her Father’s fists. Perhaps that was their mistake. Underestimating the power of fear. 

It wouldn’t have been the first time.

Somehow, someway, the binding was broken at the ministry and the results couldn’t be more catastrophic. The children were of course devastated, and were acting like the naive children they were. They summarily Refused to accept Albus’s assurances that Hermione had to be dead already and that no action could be taken to “save” her. Worse still, Harry had stormed into his office and practically destroyed it in a burst of accidental magic. The silly boy kept demanding and demanding for the order to mount a rescue mission of some kind. Despite the simple fact that the Hermione they knew was no more. 

Hell, many of the newer order members were raising a stink as well. Tonks, Remus, Sirius and even McGonagall (who had long straddled the line between teacher and order member and mostly kept out of both wars) took turns shouting at him over the loss of the girl. None of them were willing to accept his word that she was surely dead if she was captured. Minerva even went so far as to go behind his back and confirm with the ledger. He could feel his blood pressure rise interminably when he found out the cagey witch had actually gone behind his back and confirmed to the DA students she was still alive. 

He had to heave a long suffering sigh. So many of the original Order Members who knew about the war with the Fae were dead. The Prewitt twins, The Longbottoms, The McKinnon’s, Moody’s wife and so many more fine families, all lost. Their loss deeply pained and troubled him. Only Albus and Moody were really left who could truly understand the implications of Hermione being a Fae. Why what was done was necessary for the greater good, and why she had to be eliminated. 

Now though, there was no telling what songs the Dark would sing with the return of the Fae. Albus was, quite frankly, terrified of the propaganda Lucius could bully the prophet into spinning now that they had access to a witness. Someone who might even have legal standing to sue the ministry over what happened all those years ago. Of course, Albus had immediately contacted Fudge and made sure such an attempt would not be successful, so he wasn’t truly worried. Still, if the public heard even a hint of what happened to the Fae, necessary as it was, any attempts to recruit for the order would be stifled. It might even cause some of the newer members to drift out of it’s ranks. It would be catastrophic and might ultimately lead to the collapse of wizarding Britain. 

Who else, after all, could stand up to the hordes of the dark? Certainly not the useless corrupt ministry after all. 

Some ruffled feathers and squaking peacocks weren’t even the worst of it, however. No, if the know it all swot had one thing going for her, it was her memory. Even if she tried to resist temptation for awhile, soon Hermione would assuredly sing her heart out to the dark’s cunning interrogation. Names and locations of all the order members were now threatened. The fidelius was hardly foolproof as he had seen in the first war, so even Grimmauld wasn’t safe anymore. 

...Privet Drive wasn’t safe anymore. 

All of that was even assuming that Hermione wasn’t providing the dark with willingly given Fae blood for their own nefarious purposes. The chance of that truly chilled the headmasters soul. Hopefully though, such practices were arcane and outdated enough that the dark wouldn’t even think of it. He was far from confident however. As evil as Tom may be, he had always been widely read. Even the possibility was intolerable. 

He needed to contain the situation as soon as possible. To remove the girl from the board. To make sure no details of her capture, binding and subsequent adoption were made public. 

With a final grunt Albus finished his glass of brandy and rose to the fireplace. In a moment he’d thrown a pinch of floo powder in and stuck his head through to make a call. 

“Moody, old friend, I fear you were right all along. I have a task for you, with the utmost secrecy required.”

*****************************************************************

Hermione felt herself floating, warm and content. Soft sheets, warm skin and lovely soft pillows were under her head. Dimly, she inhaled the lovely musky scent wrapping around her, with just a hint of dark chocolate. Her shoulder gave a brief stiff tinge and she let out and annoyed hoot as she tried to shift it to a more comfortable position. Soft, delicate fingers wound their way through her hair. A soft shushing sound reached her ears as the fingers moved down and scritched a spot on the back of her neck, just under her ears-

Oh, oh my.

This is absolutely _divine _thought the teen. Just the right spot, with just the right pressure. She was practically purring. A series of pleased musical warblers rumbled in her throat. She heard a chuckle and something pressing close to the top of her hair teasingly.__

__...only for, oh no, those wonderful, perfect, exquisite fingers to stop their motion and leave her hair._ _

__Well. That. Just. Won't. Do._ _

__Without warning, the young witch turned her head and nipped and the warm pillow, no it was a shoulder, underneath her. The body startled under her as Hermione's fangs grazed skin. She tasted the smallest hint of iron in her mouth, which all things considered, found surprisingly delicious. Not waiting for a moment longer, she indignantly hooted at her bed mate and groped around. Her shoulder twinged painfully again, but eventually she found the offending limb. The fae unceremoniously plopped the delicate hand in her hair again and rubbed it back and forth. Urging for more pets. The pleased chuckle returned as well as those heavenly scritchy fingers._ _

__All was right in the world in that moment._ _

__...and then a husky sultry voice broke the silence._ _

__"Demanding little tweety bird, aren't you, pet?"_ _

__Hermione nodded as she pressed her head forward to chase those magic fingers. Her throat burst out into a singsong of pleased and happy warbles and she delighted into the uncharacteristic giggle she managed to coax out of that smokey voice._ _

__...wait, something about that voice was familiar._ _

__Something clicked in her brain and her eyes snapped open. There's a half second of fear when she realizes who exactly is beside her in bed, but it fades quickly as the realization of who exactly the person in bed is to Hermione specifically._ _

__"B-Bella?!" The young witch exclaimed with a start. Her eyes locked on to the dark witch reposed beside her with a devilish smirk on her face. Blushing, Hermione's eyes were drawn to a shallow scratch on the dark witch's -no, her soulmate's, god that was weird to think about after so long thinking she was unmarked- chest. The cut didn't look particularly deep, but it was positioned just above the gloriously full swell of the woman's bust. The teen felt her face warm at the glimpse of supple skin, even if it was covered in a fetching silk nightdress._ _

__"You know, biting and bloodplay are totally kinks of mine, but my pets usually buy me a drink first." The dark witch teasingly said, turning Hermione's blush into a full on sputtering embarrassed flame. Suddenly Bella is cackling at her, in this gloriously unrestrained and happy way that makes whatever tension is in the teen melt away._ _

__Still though, let it not be said said that Hermione is a pushover._ _

__"Good thing the age of consent is a lot lower than the drinking age then isn't it?" She says with a sultry smirk. Not quite knowing where exactly she was getting her daring at the moment, the fae girl trailed her fingers gently down the woman's side, ghosting over the top of her rear._ _

__The brief hitch in Bella's breathing and the wide eyed stunned look on her face sent a burst of confidence and humor through Hermione. Her elation didn't last long however before the dark witch recovered._ _

__Bella brought her in close and nuzzled her head into the soft downy feathers spread throughout Hermione's hair. Those kissable red lips hovered just below the brunette's ear and a hand came to rest just over the curve of Hermione's ass._ _

__"Careful pet. I’m not afraid to bite back after all." The dark witch whispered huskily. A shiver ran up and down Hermione's spine at the thought. Helped of course, by the absolutely _filthy _look Bella was sending her.___ _

____The whole moment made the brunette witch feel hot under her skin. A curl of heat flared to life in the pit of her belly, even as her heart stuttered with nervous butterflies. The surprisingly earnest need on display helped make her feel truly wanted and pursued. It was not at all like the tentative push and pull bullshite between her and Ron. Hot one moment, cold another. Jealous and insecure of any small trickle of happiness she might have. Even if she was just finding any other friendships besides him and Harry. Bella however, left no hesitation or doubt of her affections. She _wanted_ Hermione._ _ _ _

____...and it felt goddamn _amazing.__ _ _ _

____“Oh, that doesn’t sound so bad at all. In fact, I could rather see myself enjoying it after all.” The teen witch shot back. She gloated in the way the dark witches pupils blew out. Bella let out a rough growl and leaned forward to give her earlobe a playful nip. Hermione whimpered needily and trembled like a leaf under Bella’s attentions. Gasping, she turned her head and pushed herself further into the dark witch’s embrace._ _ _ _

____Their lips crashed together, hot and heavy. Gasping and panting and needing more. Unbearable heat curled in Hermione’s belly. She whimpered and with nervous trembling hands palmed Bella’s heavy breasts over her nightgown. Meanwhile nails clawed heavily and deliciously into the skin on Hermione’s back._ _ _ _

____Kissing her soulmate was absolutely perfect. Worth every second of misery thinking she was unmarked for so many years._ _ _ _

____Eventually though, Bella pulled back with a rough growl and she leaned away from Hermione. The fae tried to follow, to taste more of those luscious lips, but a firm hand to her sternum held her back. The dark witch growled and took a series of deep breaths, gearing herself up to speak._ _ _ _

____“Little witch, we need to stop for now. There are important things we need to talk about, and I fully expect that any minute now Cissy will break down the door and drag us down to breakfast.” Bella said, though her voice was still gravelly and rough. Hermione pouted for a second, but did take a few deep breaths to gather herself and get control of her damn hormones. Eventually she was able to pull herself together a bit and some of what was happening the night before came back to her. Her worries as Voldemort called her to attend him._ _ _ _

____“Okay, I guess you’re right. How did the meeting go last night? Are you all right?” Hermione managed to ask. Bellatrix visibly flinched at the question, and Hermione felt a jolt of unease run through her. The dark witch started chewing her lip hesitantly, looking supremely uncomfortable. The expression just felt...wrong on her brash, headstrong, perhaps questionably stable soulmate._ _ _ _

____“...How is your occlumency?” Bellatrix eventually asked. Hermione blinked owlishly in surprise._ _ _ _

____“Erhm, passable maybe, but I don’t really know? Harry was erhm...trying to learn. I read his textbooks and did the exercises as well, but I didn’t have a legilimens to practice against.” Hermione said, feeling somewhat confused at the change in topic._ _ _ _

____“Would you mind pet, if I gave your barriers a quick test? I’ll be very gentle, but some of what I have to say should stay firmly locked in that pretty little head of yours.” Bella said, even as she pulled her wand from the bedside table and twirled it between her fingers anxiously._ _ _ _

____Hermione started a bit at that, feeling uncomfortable at the thought of a notorious death eater poking around in her brain. Rationally though, she knew that if Bella had wanted, she could have caught her off guard and rifled through the order secrets she knew already. If she was asking politely, it wasn’t likely that she’d do anything too nefarious. Pausing to gather her Gryffindor courage, the brunette eventually nodded her consent and focused on clearing her mind._ _ _ _

____Then, with a softly worded spell, Bella eased herself into Hermione’s mind. Whatever she was expecting from a mental attack, this was definitely not it. All she felt was a soft pressure firmly but gently pushing at the walls in her mind. It poked this way and that, seeking to seep through holes in her defenses and drag up stray thoughts and memories, but seemingly careful not to dig too deeply at any one thread. Then again, maybe she shouldn’t be surprised. After all, with the whole soulmate thing between them, she expected Bella was probably going out of her way to be nicer about it than normal. She found the gesture oddly adorable coming from the intimidating woman._ _ _ _

____After a little while, she found her mind drifting a bit. It was hard not to get distracted. Especially as the dark witch in front of her painted such a pretty picture in her concentration. Hermione really, _really_ wanted to get a taste of those perfect lips, especially with the delightful way Bella nibbled on them as she focused. Or maybe she could kiss her way down those surprisingly well muscled shoulders. She started when a knowing chuckle snapped her out of her reverie. _ _ _ _

____“Well, your barriers could certainly use some work, but they should deflect at least a cursory examination. That is, if you can keep your attention off pretty girls Ms. Granger.” Bella said with a wicked smirk. Hermione felt herself flush all over._ _ _ _

____“What if that's just what I wanted you to think huh? That I was some air headed girl crazy silly teenager?” The fae girl said with an indignant hoot. Bellatrix barked a surprised laugh. Hermione loved the way her eyes twinkled with mirth._ _ _ _

____“Well, in that case, consider your ploy thoroughly successful. Honestly that’s not even a bad strategy in general. If you’re too focused on occluding everything truly skilled legilimens will notice you’re hiding something and dig deeper. We’ll work on refining that later.” Bellatrix explained with a fond smile on her face. Hermione couldn’t help but grin back, loving the praise and the moment._ _ _ _

____“So, the meeting?” The fae eventually asked. She pinned the older woman under a searching look. Meanwhile, Bella shifted uncomfortably and took a deep, hesitant breath._ _ _ _

____“I-I don’t want to scare you Hermione, but I won’t lie. The situation is... it’s bad. Very bad.” The dark witch said, trailing off. Hermione could practically feel the unease radiating off the woman, which kicked her own anxiety off the charts._ _ _ _

____“Shit. Death eater bad? Or regular human bad?” She asked, getting a broken chuckle from the older woman._ _ _ _

____“Maybe more regular human bad? The death eaters have certainly done a hell of a lot worse in their time.” Bella responded._ _ _ _

____“Okay, I’m a big girl, and this beating around the bush horseshite is probably freaking me out more than whatever actually happened. I’ve been fighting in this war, one way or another since I was 11. Tell me what happened. I can take it.” The fae asked challengingly, arching a brow at the older woman. Bellatrix let out a ragged breath and clawed a hand through her hair in a surprisingly anxious gesture._ _ _ _

____“The fae can ensure, uh, a magically powerful child. You’re the only one we know of still left after the first war. The dark lord and the inner circle wanted to use you to...found the next generation of their dynasty.” The dark witch explained, looking supremely uncomfortable and guilty._ _ _ _

____Oh. There’s that feeling of panic and hopelessness that never truly went away since the battle. Hermione felt her ears ringing and her breath catching in her throat. The world felt oddly floaty and fuzzy. Frantically, her brain tried to compute the implications of what exactly that meant. Unfortunately, as often happens when she’s nervous, she started to babble rather badly, barely even listening to herself talk._ _ _ _

____“Wha- what? That doesn’t even make sense. How can they even- I mean, I’m just me?! Regardless of anything I could only ever carry one child. I mean, I guess unless it was some sort of weird fae magical blessing on a child thing. Which maybe wouldn’t be that bad? After all, making sure kids are healthy and happy is probably a good thing, unless the ritual or whatever was ethically dodgy or somethi-” Hermione babbled, only being cut by a barked shout of her name and a grounding hand on her shoulder._ _ _ _

____“Pet, you need to take a second and breathe.” Bellatrix demanded, pausing for Hermione to pull herself together._ _ _ _

____“To get at some of your worries. It’s not a ritual, but you can relax, I won’t let anything happen to you. If you are really that curious about the details, remember that fae were the origin of metamorphmagus.” The dark witch explained levelly._ _ _ _

____“Huh? What does that have to do with anything?” Hermione said in confusion. She glared at Bella when she saw her sporting an amused and knowing smirk. The dark witch reached forward and pulled one of Hermione’s hands up into her field of view._ _ _ _

____‘Now Pet, just imagine yourself with pretty purple nails. Really focus and picture yourself with them, like you would when casting a transfiguration.” Bellatrix asked leadingly. Hermione found herself slightly confused, but decided to comply anyway. To her delight and surprise within seconds she watched as the sharp clawed nails on her fingers shifted to a vibrant shade of violet and back when she let her focus ease up._ _ _ _

____“Oh, that is so fucking cool!” The teen shouted with an ecstatic giggle. She let out a silly little squeal and started thinking through all the different things she could shift about herself. Oh, there were so many experiments to run! Things to learn about this! She was so excited!_ _ _ _

____“...now how’s about now you imagine yourself with a girthy ole cock and balls then love?” The dark witch said with a shit eating grin._ _ _ _

____“Oh. Oh, gross. No. Fuck no. Ugh. Bella! You’re awful!” Hermione screeched. She started playfully smacking the older witch on the shoulder when Bella had the gall to start cackling at the blush on the fae’s face._ _ _ _

____“Unhand me woman! No need to get all huffy, I’m just explaining the fae version of the birds and the bees to you!” Bellatrix snorted._ _ _ _

____“And you call me immature. Hmph.” Hermione said with a snort. Bella let out another giggle before sombring once more._ _ _ _

____“It’s uh been awhile since it happened, but when Fae reproduce with magical folk two things can happen. If a witch carries a fae’s child, that child tends to be very magically powerful. If the fae carries the child, the mother’s magic effects the baby in utero and they are born as a full blooded fae. Knowing the Dark Lord...he probably would have wanted that honor for his own legacy.” The dark witch explained. She shot Hermione and unsure look and gave her shoulder an understanding squeeze when Hermione’s eyes widened in understanding._ _ _ _

____“You uh- you said you stopped that right? You’re not going to let him go through with it are you?” Hermione asked, her voice full of wheezy panic._ _ _ _

____“No! Absolutely not. Not a single one of those bastards. Not Lucius, not Rab, not even the dark lord included will lay a single fucking finger on you. I swear it.” Bella growled out, sending a surprisingly pleasant shiver down Hermione's spine. The teen was fast learning that growly dommey Bella both made her feel surprisingly safe and a bit hot under the collar._ _ _ _

____"Bastards?" Hermione said, arching a brow inquisitively. She was honestly surprised at the harsh tone given Bella's status as the dark lord's most loyal follower. The dark witch visibly paled. Bella shot a nervous glance towards the corners of the room. As if for the mere thought and slip of the tongue someone was going to jump out and kill her._ _ _ _

____It was hard seeing the unflappable woman looking so visibly afraid and concerned. The sight It made something in Hermione’s chest just ache. Trying not to overthink it, she leaned forward and pulled the older woman into a hug. Like a frightened cat Bella stiffened in her arms, her breath unsteady and shuddering._ _ _ _

____After a long second, the older woman took a deep gasping breath and her arms snaked close around Hermione. The embrace was incredibly firm, yet gentle, heartbreakingly like the dark witch was holding fine china. Still, her arms were warm, strong and made the fae feel safe. She nuzzled further into the woman’s chest, a soft reassuring coo hummed in her throat._ _ _ _

____“Pet. I...I’ve been drifting for awhile. Whatever we were fighting for all those years ago...hell even by the later half of the war, it’s not what we're fighting for now. All I saw in that meeting was puffed up old men, with too much money and a thirst for power that will do anything to get it. I’ve honestly wanted to leave for awhile. I got them to back off you for a few months, but we need to find a way out for us and Cissy before then. Maybe Draco as well, if his father hasn’t ruined him yet.” Bellatrix said. Her voice was a whisper so soft, that Hermione almost thought she imagined it. Like she was afraid that even speaking the words would bring her Lord down on them like a demon in the night._ _ _ _

____“Okay. I...bloody merlin help me, but I think I trust you. We’ll figure it out.” Hermione said, pulling herself together._ _ _ _

____The pair fell into a contemplative yet comfortable silence. Both just sitting in and taking comfort from the closeness of the other. Hermione let out a continuous series of soft coos and hoots as Bella’s hands rubbed gentle comforting circles on her shoulders._ _ _ _

____With the enveloping quiet Hermione found her mind wandering to her missing her friends. Especially Harry. For so long they’d fought together. They had muddled their way through dangerous situation after dangerous situation with nought but a prayer and a plan thrown out a second after first contact with the enemy. If anyone would be prepared to help Hermione pull off the impossible and dance their way out from under Voldemort’s thumb it would be him. The impossibly lucky bellend that he was._ _ _ _

____Ten or so minutes later a soft knock on the bedroom door brought their attention to a house elf in a raggedy towel. The poor dear nervously shuffled at Bella’s ward line and hesitantly informed the couple that breakfast was to be served for the Malfoy family in ten minutes. Quickly, the pair dressed, with Bella smirking as Hermione shimmied her way into an elegant dark green dress of Bella’s._ _ _ _

____It was just as the pair was preparing to finally exit the bedroom when Hermione was struck with an idea. Thinking once more of her best friend got her remembering a certain soulmark of a broom flying on a pair of dragon’s wings. She turned to her soulmate, a shit eating grin on her face._ _ _ _

____“Bella, love, don’t worry about our dear little dragon. I’ve got a plan to handle him.” She purred._ _ _ _

____*******************************************************_ _ _ _


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A deeply awkward breakfast followed by plot. All the plot.

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To say that Hermione’s first meal living at Malfoy manor was awkward...would be a bit of a massive understatement. 

The fae girl had followed her older soulmate through the twisting decadent hallways until they’d found an imposing set of baroque oak doors. Bella had boldy pushed them open to showcase an opulent yet strangely intimate dining room. Everything was done up in impeccably expensive and tasteful style. The walls were covered in rich warm tones, with intricately detailed molding lining the floor and ceiling. Dark carved wood furniture sat a small party of diners, today seemingly being a meal only for the immediate Malfoy family. 

Lucius, of course, sat at the head of the table, with the Lestrange brothers on one side and Narcissa and Draco on the other. Hermione mused that with the chaos of the battle and end of exams, some of the students had to have been sent home early. 

Of course, the arrival of the dark witch and her fae soulmate did not go unnoticed. Lucius and Rod shot each other a conspiratorial glance before addressing the pair. 

“Ahh, Bella, so kind of you to join us and so good to finally be introduced to your… lovely soulmate,” the blonde said with a vicious smirk. His entire tone instinctively sent Hermione on edge. His words may have been polite and formal, but the dark undertones behind his voice were deeply uncomfortable. It was as if his reaction was caught between his usual ugly sneer and forced civility. His gaze lingered a few seconds too long on Hermione’s form to be quite polite, and the glint in his eyes made the fae feel like a slab of meat in front of a predator. 

Bella, of course, picked up on all of this and smoothly slid in front of Hermione. The dark witch’s shoulders tensed, her posture challenging and ready for anything. Her soulmate let the silence hang for interminable moments as she levelled Lucius with a harsh glare. 

“So good of you to invite us to your table, dear Lu-lu. May I introduce my soulmate, Ms. Hermione Granger,” the dark witch said with an icy growl. Wordlessly the older woman looped an arm around Hermione’s torso, pulling her into her side possessively. Hermione leaned yet closer into the woman, seeking the comfort and safety of her mate. The man raised a smug brow at the display. 

“Down girl. You need to relax, charming sister-in-law of mine. It’s not like I need to steal your toys after all.” Lucius drawled as he reached out to grasp his wife’s hand. Hermione couldn’t help but notice the normally reserved woman give the smallest flinch at the contact and it made a pit of suspicion and anger drop into her stomach. Bella inclined her head slightly, enough to acknowledge the comment, but not really engage. The older woman’s posture remained stiff and protective as she led Hermione to the table and pulled out a seat for her.

What worried Hermione the most were the reactions of Draco and Narcissa. The pair was uncharacteristically silent and subdued. Narcissa in particular seemed almost...jumpy. Her normal posture was slumped, just the slightest, and she was sitting gingerly. The fae could almost swear she saw a hint of a bruise poking out from the elegant woman’s neckline and that worried her tremendously. 

Draco on the other hand kept his gaze down and away from his father with his expression cloudy. Honestly, Hermione expected him to poke or needle her like would be inevitable at school. Maybe brag a bit about how she got captured by his father and rub it in her “mudblood” face. Instead, beyond a quick nod acknowledgment he practically ignored her. The teen seemed far too occupied sending worried glances to his mother to pay any attention to the fae. The behavior was unnerving to say the least. 

The icy introduction unfortunately set the tone for the rest of breakfast. Tense, awkward silence reigned. Rodolphous and Lucius kept sharing knowing and superior looks between them and whispering quietly. Whenever their gazes would deign to return to the rest of the party, it would linger obnoxiously on Hermione. Neither seeming to care, or perhaps enjoying how it made Hermione shift uncomfortably in her seat. Bella always made a point to glare at the two whenever they got too fixated, but it didn’t seem to really stop them. If anything, it seemed to egg them on, trying to needle the dark witch and smirking when her hackles raised. 

Still, the whole experience of dining with death eaters, one of whom was her soulmate, was beyond surreal. Despite finding herself absolutely ravenous, the fae found herself distracted from actually paying attention to any of the food prepared for them. Vaguely she noticed herself tearing her way through a deliciously bloody steak and eggs. She did think that was a bit odd, considering she mostly ate vegetarian, but it _was_ quite tasty so she didn’t think too much about it. 

Distractedly, she polished off the last of the nice meaty bits on her T-Bone. She frowned, realizing that with knife and fork she’d missed all sorts of tasty looking morsels stuck to the bone. Absentmindedly, she picked it up and began to gnaw the remainder off. A little bratty part of her was snickering at the amused look Bella was giving her, along with the indignant grossed out look crossing dear Lucius’s. Distracted and caught up in the moment, she followed her instincts. Her jaw clamped and her new sharp fangs crunched down through the bone. She sucked and slurped on the delicious marrow inside with distinct relish for several seconds. 

...huh.

That should probably have felt stranger to her than it did. 

Oh well, at least it caused Lucius to pale dramatically. The fae was gleeful to have found a tasty way to make the goddamn peacock as uncomfortable as she was making him. She was just barely resisting the urge to cackle madly. Luckily Bella seemed just as deeply amused as she did, though from the exasperated expression on Narcissa face, the other Black sister might have been a tougher nut to crack. 

Thankfully, despite their obvious faults, none of the men were men of leisure. No doubt hurried along by the strangeness of Hermione’s company, they were quickly making excuses to go about their day. Still, the entire experience felt like it took forever and an age. Hermione was absolutely not looking forward to future dining experiences at the manor if this was what she could expect. 

Once the men had wandered off, the tension in the room slowly seemed to evaporate. As soon as they were out of earshot, Bella had broken the silence by grumbling and cursing after their backside. Hermione chuckled fondly and licked her fingers clean. 

“Hermione darling, we are most certainly going to have to teach you some better table manners...even if it was deeply satisfying to watch that expression on my husband’s face.” Narcissa said, giving her first real smile of the morning. There was something warmer and less restrained in her stance now that Lucius had left the room. Hermione felt like her heart was soaring from how that gaze lingered warmly, first on Draco and then on her. Still, the witch felt a soft blush on her face. 

“I don’t exactly know what came over me actually. I’m usually much cleaner with my table manners. Maybe unbinding my fae side had more effects than we thought.” Hermione explained sheepishly. Narcissa gave a brief hum of acknowledgement at the idea.

“Oh, don’t worry so much about it pet. The peacock could stand having his feathers ruffled more often. Maybe then he wouldn’t be such a stuck up prick.” Bella huffed beside her. Draco gave his aunt an amused shake of his head, which turned into a smirk at Narcissa’s harsh admonishing call of “Bella!” Hermione giggled to herself before a much more comfortable silence settled on the table. 

Eventually though, the teen couldn’t stop herself from perhaps poking her nose where it didn’t have a right to go. Despite the good mood returning to the table, she was still quite concerned about the older blonde. In her time at the manor Narcissa had been nothing but kind and understanding. She obviously had a close and warm relationship with Bella, which distinctly affected Hermione’s perception of the woman. She couldn’t help but be worried about all the signs in Narcissa that matched up with her own mother. 

...and that thought made anxiety rear up and clench in her chest painfully. 

“Narcissa, if you don’t mind me asking, are you alright? You seemed...unsettled when we first came in.” Hermione asked. She tried to keep her down pleasant, light and earnestly curious. The teen didn’t want to communicate that she had any ulterior motives beyond being genuinely concerned for the older witch. Which she was. It seemed like she did a reasonable job as well. Aside from a brief pointedly assessing stare, Narcissa was quick to soften and show the girl a kind smile. 

“Yes darling, I’m fine. Lucius and the boys just-” Narcissa said, voice trembling and pausing in a way that set all of Hermione’s alarms ringing. “...got out of last night’s meeting with their blood a little hot. It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last. I’m used to it.” The blonde finished explaining. Hermione however didn’t miss the sharp angry look that flashed over Bella’s face in the direction of the door Lucius had disappeared through. 

“I’m sorry it’s...it’s not my business. It doesn’t sound like it’s ok though.” Hermione said, risking pushing just a little further. She was glad though that rather than closing off Narcissa merely smiled indulgently at her and waved the comment off. 

“Well, Bella dear, what are your plans for the day?” The blonde smoothly asked as she idly snapped her fingers for a house elf to clear the table. 

When the creature popped into the room, Hermione considered commenting, but thought better of it for now. She was a guest, and most certainly in over her head. As much as she hated it, now was probably not the best time to raise a stink about house elf labor. At least the adorable little creature with a bow on her head and cute pink towel around her body seemed cleaner, healthier and better taken care of than Dobby ever was. Like she’d been bathed and fed recently, rather than beaten black and blue. That was something at least. 

“Well Cissy, there’s lots to do. We might hit the library for awhile. Maybe take a trip to Gringotts and see if we can’t get our little fae here an inheritance test.” Bellatrix said idly, her tone deceptively light and airy. “I was meaning to talk to you though Cissy. I was thinking of planning a bit of a trip sometime. Get out of the house for a bit if you know what I mean. Maybe you’d like to come along?” The dark witch continued, her tone much more serious and ominous than it needed to be to Hermione’s ears. 

“We’ll have to talk later then Bella. After all, Draco’s just home from school and I’ve missed him so. I know it annoys him, but a mother can be forgiven for wanting to spend as much time with her son as she can in these trying times.” Narcissa replied, giving Bella an oddly intense look that Hermione couldn’t parse. She knew there were layers to the conversation she was only vaguely aware of, but she wasn’t familiar enough with either to really understand them. Then again, Draco was giving his mother and equally confused look, so maybe it was just a sister thing. 

Bella was just confirming the talk with her sister when a sharp knock was heard on the door. All four diners turned to face what was probably the proudest looking house elf she’d seen. He was clad in an elegant black sheet, embroidered with the Malfoy family crest. His posture was rigid and formal with his chin upturned to face the room. Hermione got the impression he was something of an imperial messenger. 

“Woody apologies for interrupting your meal Mistress. A Hogwarts elf came bearing a letter for Mistress Bella’s young mistress. They was most insistent that she open it immediately. We’s already checked it for traps, portkeys and curses.” The little elf said, walking closer and holding out a letter. Bella snatched it from her and gave it a few waves over with her wand before nodding that it was safe and handing it to Hermione. 

Honestly, Hermione was very confused. She knew her friends were probably worried sick about where she got to, but assumed Dumbledore might have something to do with why they hadn’t reached out yet. None of them would have sent her a letter with a Hogwarts elf though. Maybe it was from Harry and the elf was Dobby? Regardless, she was reminded that Crooks and all her belongings were still at Hogwarts. The thought of her familiar being stranded in Dumbledore’s stronghold almost made her physically ill. 

“Thank you Woodsy. Before you go, I want to ask something. Would it be possible for an elf get onto Hogwarts grounds? I’d like to have my belongings and my familiar, Crookshanks brought to me. In particular, there’s a hand mirror stashed under my mattress that I’d like as soon as possible.” Hermione asked. Bella gave an amused chuckle and made some comment under her breath about a girl’s strange priorities that had Hermione glaring at her.

“Woodsy already had Young Mistress’s things delivered yesterday. Don’t you worry about it.” The regal elf said excitedly before popping off. A few seconds later he popped back into the room with a bright tabby furball in tow. 

Hermione squealed in excitement and leapt from her chair to sweep Crookshanks up into her arms. The fae girl laughed ecstatically and couldn’t help giving his adorable smooshed face a barrage of relieved kisses. She started baby talking about how much she missed him and nuzzled heavily into his warm fury body. The grumpy old cat gave her face an annoyed swat with his cute little danger mitten to get her to relax and stop choking him with love. Hermione didn’t care though. Even if she was bleeding from a shallow scratch on her cheek, the teen felt infinitely better with her familiar once more by her side. The sense of utter normalcy helped her feel more grounded and stable. 

Giggling, she contented herself with sitting back down and softly scritching behind his ears. She was further relieved to see the elf had dropped off her mirror on the table before popping away once more. Soon the room filled with the sound of Crook’s purring and her own happy warbling in response. She was truly happy once more. Even if she had to pointedly ignore the far too adoring look on Bella’s face, or the way Narcissa smirked and mouthed “your so whipped” at her sister. She was too happy basking in the warm fuzzy lump on her lap.

“Aren’t you going to open your letter Pet?” Bella prompted after a while. Nodding distractedly, Hermione reached a hand over and took a look at the envelope. Unfortunately unmarked, so no clues as to its origin, which she thought curious. She ran a finger under the lid, popped open the letter and started to read. Her jaw dropped, fear and panic ran through her as she tried to process the short note. Crooks seemed to sense her distress and started nuzzling instently into her belly than normal. Numbly, she read aloud, not trusting her mind to make sense of it. 

“Dear Ms Granger. Your suspicious disappearance during the battle of the department of mysteries deeply saddens and troubles us. Despite the fact that you are still alive and healthy, we’ve received no communication from you confirming your status and loyalty. We can only assume that the dark has taken control of you. Whether it be by imperius or some other means. We must therefore ensure we are protected from you. This letter is to inform you that we’ve taken your parents into protective custody. Unless you personally confirm your status at Headquarters by tomorrow at noon, we will be forced to assume you have joined the dark and mean harm to your muggle family. If so, we will ensure that they are safe from you for the duration of the war.” Hermione said through the buzzing in her ears. 

Hermione slowly raised her gaze to take in the shocked looks of the other occupants at the table. She blinked once, twice, still barely holding onto reality. Bella snatched the letter out of her hands and started reading it over. The dark witch growled and got angrier and angrier the further she read into it. Hermione couldn’t really understand that at the moment. It was too difficult even trying to understand what it was she was exactly feeling. If anything. She felt oddly empty. 

Sure, she may not have liked her father. He was a mean, paranoid bastard, even before he found out she was a which. Afterwards, well, he was a fucking menace. Still, she didn’t think she wanted him dead. Did she? Those emotions were too complicated to pull apart. 

Hermione definitely felt stronger about her mom though. The woman had always tried to show Hermione genuine love and affection. While Hermione had long wanted to blame the torment that was her summers on the woman’s failure to take her away from her father...that wasn’t entirely fair. He was exactly as mean to her mother as her. They were in the boat together with each other and Hermione bitterly knew exactly how crippling fear could be. Sadness. Deep, melancholy, bittersweet sadness. That was what she felt about the prospect of never seeing her mom again. 

“Pet! Pet! Look at me!” Bellatrix shouted, startling the fae with a gentle touch to her shoulder. She whipped her head around to see her soulmate once more. The deeply protective rage set in her face finally shocked her out of her floundering state. She could breathe again as the world seemed to speed up back to normal. Crookshanks mewled and jumped out of her lap at the sudden motion, but insistently started rubbing up against her leg. Offering what comfort her could. 

“It’s a trap Pet. You know it is, I know it is. If you go to that goddamn building, he’s going to try and kill you again. We can get them back though. With you, we know where the order’s headquarters is. We can mount a rescue. Hell, any chance to kill the old goat I’ll take. Just say the word, we have to move fast to save them.” Bella growled out, her eyes flashing dangerously. Hermione was touched by the gesture and support. While they hadn’t fully talked it out, she knew Bella still had some...problematic ideas about muggles. To offer to save Hermione’s muggle relatives just because Hermione cared about them seemed like a good first step. She fully believed that they could work it out eventually, but now was not the time. 

With trembling hands she pulled her wand out of her pocket and picked up the mirror she’d made in the summer of her third year. She’d been bored over the summer and utterly fascinated with the study of ancient rune magic in her new elective. Since she didn’t need a wand to carve and activate runes of power, it was one of the only types of magic available to her over the interminably long summers. She’d of course read far, far ahead of her class. Hermione absorbed every word and tidbit in the thick tomes like mana from heaven. 

Something about the field just _spoke_ to her. In a way nothing else at Hogwarts did. Even after just her first year with Professor Babbling she’d been experimenting and studying everything she could. She stitched and etched protective and useful charms into her clothes, onto her jewelry and over her trunk. Nothing she brought to Hogwarts at this point was untouched. Aside from it being fun to learn, she knew war was coming and she wanted to be prepared. It also never hurt to have some magical assistance with avoiding the all too common pranks and jinxes pureblood bullies sent her way in the halls. 

During the summer, when she was even more bored, she’d taken to doing a couple of secret research projects when she could. Case in point, this mirror. Through an elaborate runic array around it’s edge, the mirror connected to her mother’s favorite ring. It was a shiny gold thing her father had bought to make up for some fight or other they’d had before they’d gotten married. The woman had remembered the spat fondly as a better time, before things got all tangled up. As such, her mom wore it everywhere, never taking it off if she could help it. 

Her mom may have been deeply amused at Hermione’s fussing, but the teen had refused to be dissuaded. She’d pleaded and pleaded with her to be allowed to try and make something to help protect the woman who was most important to her in all the world. For over a week she’d wheedled and given her the sad puppy eyes. Eventually, the woman crumpled and gave Hermione the jewelry for a week to etch a series of small charms on the inside of the band. Though it was slow, painstaking work, she’d persisted with single minded focus to get all she wanted done on time. 

Most of the spells were pretty normal. Simple charms for luck, happiness and general health. However, even back then Hermione didn’t trust her father to keep her safe. To not go too far when Hermione wasn’t there. Though it killed her to lie to her mom, she’d decided to etch the ring with a simple diagnostic charm she’d learned from Madam Pomfrey. 

It’d been a tricky bit of magic (most of which she’d had to devise herself!) but she’d managed to connect that charm with her mirror. Every morning she could check it and get a simple report of her mom’s current health. Nothing fancy, just a list of her injuries, when they occurred and how severe they were. It was what Madam Pomfrey used for triaging students when she didn’t have time for a thorough exam. Still, it was enough to calm Hermione’s racing heart and assure herself that her mom was okay. Or, at least, not dead. 

Shakily she touched the mirror’s surface with her wand and spoke the activation word for the diagnostic charm in a loud clear voice. “Report!” Words scrawled across the screen in seconds. 

Her heart dropped. 

“Don’t bother Bella. They’re already dead.” Hermione said, her voice a disturbingly hollow and robotic tone. Her parents were dead. Severe nerve damage consistent with what she’d read about the cruciatus. Followed shortly thereafter by an avada kedavra to the chest. She’d never see them again. Never see her mother smile again. Never taste the terrible eggnog she always _had_ to make at Christmas. Never prove her father wrong that she was just a “good for nothing freak.” Never get to have them hug her at her graduation or tell her that they loved her. Just...never. 

The emotional distance didn’t last long. A new feeling was building up in her. It flew through her, filling her every particle of her being with it’s searing warmth and conviction. She was fit to burst at the goddamn seams with it. The emotion forced her to take ragged, charged breaths. A piercing screech ripped from her throat. It reverberated in the small room and made the other occupants wince and cover their ears.

Rage. So much Rage.

She took a long, slow breath once. Then twice. Hot burning rage turned to icy angry frost within her veins.

“I’m going to kill Albus Dumbledore.” She spat, her tone flat, vicious and final. Her gaze snapped over to her soulmate. Hermione couldn’t see it, but her predatory eyes narrowed menacingly and were lit with the magical energy roiling of her. Her normally poofy hair and feathers crackled with lighting. Draco and Narcissa shivered in fright in their seats. Only Bella, her strong, proud Bella held herself together under the fae’s barrage of emotion and magic. The dark witch held her gaze with answering flame and anger. It gave Hermione the strength to stand up to what was to come.

“But first, I’m going to _ruin_ him.” The fae promised. To the universe. To herself. To her soulmate. Bella nodded and held out a hand confidently. 

“How can I help?”

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	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Bella plot their revenge and get ready to meet with a certain kitty cat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank all you guys for the lovely comments on the last chapter! I'm so glad people are enjoying this. This chapter is a bit of a calmer and fluffier break between all the angst, so I hope you like it.

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As it turns out, the first request Hermione had of Bella to help her ruin the life and reputation of Albus Dumbefuck was pretty simple. Her sweet and lovable pet was an absolute _vision_ in her righteous anger, but Bella could see the cunning and thought behind the storm. The dark witch practically vibrated in anticipation as she watched the gears of revenge spin in her soulmates brain. Long moments passed as Bella waited on tenterhooks for a sign of what she needed to do. 

Then her little brat of a witch said a simple sentence. One which would haunt Bella forever, always prophesying doom. A sentence that Bella would later learn to both dread and sit in fascinated awe of in equal measure. Every. Single. Time her sweet pet said it.

(which was often)

“Bella dear, I’m thinking of doing something _terribly_ gryffindor. Would you protect me?” Hermione said with faux innocence, quirking a brow at Bella challengingly. 

“Always.” She replied, her voice firm and steady. Even as she said it though, a chord of fear resounded in her chest. Oh, she knew her pet was going to be trouble from the moment she saw her, she just didn’t know how much. 

“Shall we retire to your bedroom to plan this out in greater privacy then?” Hermione said with a nod. The fae abruptly spun on her heel and unceremoniously stalked out of the room. Bella had to shoot a quirky grin at her sister before hurrying along to follow her soulmate. 

Bella rushed ahead to lead the way, occasionally glaring sharply at the curious death eater they encountered on the way. Despite the curiosity of seeing a fae in the flesh once more, none seemed willing to linger. Whenever Bella paused to flash a look over her shoulder at Hermione, she had to apreciate the girl’s truly impressive resting murder face. Since getting the news about her family’s death, the girl had simply refused to let go of the thick cloud of icy magic hanging over her skin. Her steps resounded thunderously, and little sparks and waves of power practically rolled off her witch. The tufts of feathers in her hairline were raised in the most threatening way possible and her predatory eyes were violent swirling pools of almost pure black.

It was intimidating to say the least, even for Bella. With her own dour mood and growling anger, none of the overstuffed peacocks in Lu-lu’s silly band had the fucking _balls_ to dare interrupt their march. If it wouldn’t hinder the effect, Bella would be _cackling_ every time one of the fuckers squeaked nervously and ran away with their tails between their legs. 

Once the couple were firmly ensconced within Bella’s warded room and she gave the signal to explain, Hermione merely nodded and raised her wand. Within seconds a bright burst of light burst from it’s tip. A spectral tawny owl fluttered around her pet’s head, bathing the room in comforting warm light. In its aura Bella felt that the weight of the world on her shoulders was lighter than it had been in years. Her jaw dropped in wonder as the creature flapped down to nestle in her pet’s thick hair and playfully peck at the strands. Hermione had to be the only person in the world who could get the worst news of her life and still focus on a happy enough memory to produce a fully corporeal patronus. The brilliant, utterly mad girl that she was.

“You will go to Minerva McGonanagal and deliver a message. Wait until she is alone. Do not let anyone else see you or hear the message. The message is as follows: Professor, it’s Hermione. I’m safe and whole. Meet me where we were first introduced at noon. It’s very important that you come alone and tell no one else. I’ll explain later.” Hermione ordered, sending her patronus messenger off with a casual wave of her wand and subtle incantation. LIke using patroni for delivering messages wasn’t mastery level charms work and was just something she picked up in her spare time.

...Probably was now that she thought about it. She’s not sure if that’s impressive, scary or just flat out hot. Maybe all three. Further observation required. 

“We’ll need to go ahead and prepare ahead of time Bella. Do you have a way of disguising yourself to move about in the magical and/or muggle worlds? Where’s your floo as well? Or could you just apparate to the muggle side of the leaky?” Hermione asked, rambling as her brain already span away through a seeming thousand thought processes. The fae paced back and forth, gesturing wildly with her hands while she plotted and planned with single minded determination. She got this cute little scrunched up expression on her face that Bella would later term Hermione’s “plotting world domination look.” 

Seeing her like this, confident, thoughtful and utterly brilliant did things to the dark witch. Things that made her wish she could have a cold shower before they left to take care of business. Alas, plotting revenge with her soulmate was such sweet torture. 

“Slow down a sec there pet. What’s the play, are we assassinating old professor kitty cat or something? In the magical world I can probably just disillusion myself or go in my animagus form. Aside from sticking out like a sore thumb we haven’t been able to see any indication anyone in the muggle world knows who any of the death eaters are. Still, if I’m protecting you I need to know from what.” The dark witch replied when she could catch a pause in Hermione’s rambling. The fae gave her a suitably piercing look, and Bella felt a shiver of fear and want go down her spine when those predatory yellowed eyes bore down on her. 

“No, we’re not going to harm one hair on her head if we can help it. Despite working for the goat, Professor McGonagal is one of the only people I am absolutely sure will have our backs on this. Assuming she has all the facts that we’re going to get for her.” Her witch explained with a growl. Despite trusting her, Bella shot the fae a deeply unsure look. While she’d never seen the dour tabby in battle with the Order, she knew the professor was as light as they come. It wouldn’t be as easy explaining the situation to her as to her soulmate. Hermione of course, saw through her hesitation. 

“Believe me Bella, I know her and know how she’ll react. I’m something of her favorite student. She’s been there for me...well, she’s been there for me through an awful lot. We’re going to talk and then see what we can find at my parents' place. It’ll be fine.” Hermione assured.

“Little witch, don’t get me wrong...I think you have good reason to see your parents house for yourself, but order headquarters might not be the only trap. I’m going to insist on at least carrying an emergency portkey, and you’ll have to follow my directions exactly. No hesitation or delay or I can’t keep you safe. You’ll have to trust me.” Bella said, her voice insistent and just a hint desperate. The dark witch felt her heart pounding in fear at just the thought of her sweet soulmate being captured by the order. Hermione must have sensed her unease, because the fae’s tense posture and harsh gaze softened. 

“Bella dear, it’ll be alright. I’ll do anything you need to feel safe. We’ll take it slow and be careful. I trust you.” Hermione said even as the teen reached out to rub gentle circles on Bella’s arm. The fae started softly cooing at Bellatrix, like she was trying to soothe a frightened animal. Normally the dark witch thought she’d find such mothering annoying and patronizing...and it kind-of was. Still, Bella couldn’t help but take measure of comfort from the closeness and care. The dark witch took a deep breath and tried to keep the plan rolling. 

“So, if we’re not planning an assasination, what is professor kitty cat going to be doing with us on this jaunty excursion?” Bella asked, pulling her best slytherin disaffected mask once more over her features. Hermione’s soft smile turned into a distinctly more impish smirk. The flash of pearly fang poking its way from the fae’s upper lip gave the expression a distinctly mean edge. Like the fae was salivating over particularly tasty prey. 

“If I know anything about our dear old headmaster, he’s trying to pretend everything is fine when the world is crashing down around him. Like he always fucking does.” Hermione said with a snort. 

“He’s running scared and rushing to cover everything up. Given the time constraints, I think it highly, highly likely Dumbles might not have been as thorough covering his tracks as he could have been. Especially since I highly doubt he knows shit all about modern muggle security systems. There _will_ be evidence left over. Lots of it.” Hermione said, voice steely and resolute. 

“Sure pet, but why the cat?” Bella prompted. Hermione’s sharklike smirk turned distinctly more fond. 

“Professor Mcgonall may work for him, but a fan of Dumbledore she is not. You wouldn’t imagine what comes out of her mouth when you get a few glasses of firewhiskey in her. Mouth of a one eyed drunk scottish sailor trying to hammer a nail on that one.” Her sweet pet said with an amused hum. Bella couldn’t resist a snort at that image. She knew all the professors had to have lives outside of their work...but even still, so many years later, it was hard to see her ever letting her hair down. 

“More than that though. Mcgonagall is perfect for what we need. She’s fair, connected with the order but an independent and trusted authority. She’s reasonably impartial and willing to be persuaded with proper evidence. Anything we say is suspect, anything she says is genuinely considered. Flip her and we cause mass confusion and dissension in the Order’s ranks.” The fae explained, her smirk turning knowing and vicious. Bella couldn’t help a grin after seeing the darker, more strategic side of her soulmate. 

The dark witch stared off into space a bit, daydreaming about helping her Hermione take the wizarding world by the short hairs and _yank_ it into the future, kicking and screaming. So many pleasant options. Stabbing Dumbledore in the eye. Throwing Lu-lu off the roof of Hogwarts without a wand. Maybe feeding Rod his own cock. Following all of it up by pissing all over the _esteemed_ wizengamot’s stupid, backwards, corrupt fucking laws. She was so distracted she entirely missed how Hermione started rummaging around in the large walk in closet until she pulled out her trunk from school. 

“All of which means however, you my dear pureblooded soulmate, need to find something to wear in the muggle world. Preferably something that nobody would recognize you wearing even if we happened to run into the odd muggleborn.”

****************************************************************

Hermione was in a strange mood. Honestly the day had so far been just...so, so very much. She was honestly having great difficulty trying to process it all at once. Mostly she was trying ever so hard to keep herself distracted and focused. She had so many things to do and such little time to do it. Still, every now and then she’d forget to keep living in the moment. Her brain would flood with that overwhelming surge of icy rage or melancholic sadness and she just had to take a few moments and deep breaths to lock it all up again. 

Really, Bella was doing an admirable job supporting her through it. The dark witch seemed to have a reasonably intuitive understanding of what Hermione was feeling. She seemed to understand and sympathize with the fae’s desire to pretend, just for a bit, that Hermione’s world hadn’t been upended. Desperately, the teen took what moments of normalcy and humour she could find as they prepared for the meeting with McGonagall. 

And there were so very many things to do. 

Getting the dark witch dressed in unassuming muggle wear was frankly hilarious, though took ages. Hermione couldn’t help but giggle at the conflicted look that came over her soulmates face whenever the fae had her try on some new part of her wardrobe. It was this amusing combination between pinched distaste, and curious heat at the thought of trying on Hermione’s clothes. Frankly, a large part her hormone addled brain wanted to start pulling out some of her muggle lingerie and seeing what sort of reaction she could get with that. 

Eventually, the fae did actually manage to get something together Bella found vaguely acceptable. Though they did need some minor transfigurations to adjust the size for the slightly taller woman. Hermione couldn’t help but drool at the image her soulmate made in front of her though. The dark witch was wearing a sinfully tight pair of jeans (magically changed black of course) a dark tank top and Hermione’s softest, most comfortable red flannel shirt. Frankly, weird as it sounds, women in flannel had always been sort of a thing for her. Plus, some stupid primal part of her was cheering in victory over marking her soulmate with her own clothes. That Bella seemed to grudgingly enjoy them as well just made Hermione’s ego inflate.

...Though, now that she thinks about it, probably half the reason Bella accepted the outfit was the way Hermione’s jaw dropped when she’d first seen her witch in it. The little shit was probably ecstatic about getting such a strong reaction and embarrassing the hell out of her. Especially since the woman kept the shirt unbuttoned to an unreasonably daring degree. The situation was not helped by Bella’s teasing moves to lean into Hermione’s space and flash her generous cleavage. The dark witch was snickering and smirking over the way Hermione kept embarrassing herself by squeaking, blushing and babbling on and on about nothing to keep herself from staring.

Hermione on the other hand was a bit harder to dress. Her new fae morphing abilities, while cool, were far from stable. After some experimentation she found she could barely hold a more human form for more than a minute before she lost focus and reverted. Even then, the more solid details like her fangs and claws just wanted to stay the shape they were. With a frustrated huff she just resigned herself to covering up as much as possible. An old oversized hooded sweatshirt and jeans gave her just enough room to hide the feathers in her hair and hopefully avoid too much attention.

...Bella of course, had to grumble loudly at Hermione’s much less revealing change of clothes. 

Then there were all the things they had to prepare for the meeting itself. Bella made an emergency portkey out a silver necklace Narcissa had given her for her birthday one year. The dark witch also grabbed a rather grisly looking raven’s skull necklace on a leather thong for herself, which was apparently her own portkey. In addition, apparently just sticking her wand in her boot wasn’t an acceptable situation. Thus, the dark witch fumbled around her closet for an old wrist mounted wand holster. It took some doing to get it nicely settled under her sleeve and practice flicking it out in a flash (at least dropping it wasn’t a danger, since the holster was highly charmed), but it would certainly help Hermione respond quickly to some sort of crisis.

Once Bella wrapped Hermione up in her arms and apparated them over to muggle london, things both sped up and slowed down. Her soulmate insisted on scoping out the meeting place beforehand. It was a large open air park a few blocks away from Hermione’s home in London. When the fae had first gotten her letter, she wanted to meet the professor in a neutral location before springing the whole magic thing on her parents. Which, of course, had seemed like a good idea for this meeting as well. 

Upon seeing the wide open grassy lawn, However, Bella clucked in annoyance. It was too open, too exposed. Muggles could watch from any which direction, and any number of assailants could lie in wait. Still, the dark witch knew a fascinating amount of different types of wards, which she put too good use immediately. 

Bella had set up a series of incredibly subtle spells, that only expert curse breakers would even think to notice. Muggle repelling charms would subtly convince passersby they had urgent business somewhere else rather than staying to linger. Notice me not and disillusionment charms tied to the sparse trees dotted here and there created dead zones where Bella could hide unseen. She preemptively put up a few alarm wards to ensure portkeys and apparition still worked. Just in case they were betrayed and the ministry tried to set an anti-apparition field down.

The prep work took hours, but eventually Bella was satisfied that worst comes to worst they would both easily be able to escape. Despite being a little amused over the overprotective death eater’s fussing, Hermione gave her a big hug in thanks. She did trust the woman, and if she thought they needed all of these precautions to feel safe meeting her professor, well, she deserved to feel safe.

Despite everything, they still had an hour or two to kill. Which Hermione of course chose to use to introduce her soulmate to the wonders of overpriced sugary muggle coffee. Plus, hey, her favorite coffee shop was just around the corner and it’d been an entire school year since she could last get a decent latte. Despite the wonderful food they prepared, the Hogwarts elves tended to be overly British (and 100 years behind the times) with what they made. Even getting her customary cup of coffee over tea in the morning had required careful pleading and explaining how they should prepare the beans for the water of life.

And Hermione did so have a weakness for good coffee. 

Walking into the charming little store was like stepping back in time. The soft jazz record playing and warm wood furniture reminded her of all the times her mom would stop off on the way home from school. “Just for a quick treat for being such a good girl” she’d say. With her Dad being a dentist (and a huge fucking control freak) she’d never really been allowed sweets at home. Her mom was more laid back. The woman was all too happy to buy her a cookie or a brownie here and there (with cash, since her Dad checked the card statements religiously). Especially if she’d done something weird at school again to earn her another shouted lecture on “becoming and normal” behavior from her dad.

Lost in her memories, Bella had to nudge her forward to the cashier when the little old lady in front of them finished her older. With a deep breath, she focused in on her powers, morphing as much as possible to keep the feathers out of her hair. She looked up from her deep hood and braved the unnerved stare she saw. Her eyes were probably still too yellow for human or something else she couldn’t really help. Slapping some money on the counter, she ordered as quickly as possible. The fae pointedly ignored the curious stares and whispers around them.

Luckily, the wait for their drinks wasn’t too long, and within a relatively short order they were ensconced at a cozy table in the quiet back corner of the shop. Hermione started taking long appreciative slurps of her ambrosia in a cup. The teen entirely missed the way Bella’s gaze sharpened at her own pleased moans. She paused to take a nice bite out of a sinfully sweet chocolate biscuit (not like her old man was around to berate her for it anyway) when Bella started confusedly poking her own drink. The little confused crinkle on her forehead as the witch tried to figure out how to drink from the plastic carry away cup had her chuckling and smiling fondly at her soulmate. 

“You know, I wasn’t sure what to think about a muggle cafe, but this is surprisingly good for coffee.” Bella said once she’d had a nice sip of the dark chocolate mocha Hermione had ordered for her. Hermione hummed in acknowledgment, knowing exactly how good it was. 

“Yeah, it is. This is one of those amazingly fancy places that makes all their drinks with real chocolate melted in. My mother took me here all the time.” Hermione said. A pang of feeling thumped in her chest, but she held it off as hard as possible. When she looked over at Bella, the witch had looked both a little confused and a lot fond. The way she seemed to hang off Hermione’s every word made a little fuzzy feeling bubble up in her chest.

“What would you use if you weren’t using real chocolate?” The older witch asked lightly. 

“Oh, Muggles have to deal with all sorts of packing and preservation restrictions that magic makes easier. For drinks and such, typically they create a dry chocolate powder you can just sprinkle in. It’ll have a longer shelf life and be easier to transport, which is great because of no featherlight or stasis charms. Plus there are no house elves, so most people appreciate that it’s easier to measure out and prepare at home. Only the more expensive cafe’s bother going through all the trouble and expense of melting down real chocolate, which makes it a nice treat.” Hermione babbled idly, picking apart her food. Her nervous tick was taking over as the meeting with her professor loomed closer. Sure, intellectually she knew the professor would hear her out. That she would very likely be on her side, but she’d always had a hard time with irrational anxieties.

“Oh, so it was a rare treat but you came here all the time with your mom?” Bella said, a too casual look on her face. Hermione felt her nerves kick up again. This was edging too far into territory she just didn’t talk about. She trusted Bella not to spread it around if she asked, but instinct was hard to kick entirely. The fae reminded herself that this wasn’t just anybody she was talking to. This was her soulmate. The woman who had voluntarily stood between her and a terrible fate at the hands of the death eaters.

‘Yeah, yeah we did. My mom...wasn’t a perfect woman, but she did care. We’d come here the day after any time my day got particularly...pissed off at me for being too weird and bookish.” The fae explained in halting tones. Bella gave a soft humm and gave Hermione’s hand a quick comforting squeeze. Overly public displays of affection seeming to be uncomfortable to both of them. 

“Ah, the apology coffee. Can’t say I ever got one of those, though it would have been nice. Cygnus was more fond of shiny jewelry I’d never wear. But then, they never really cared to know me anyway. I know Andy and Cissy appreciated them more.” Bellatrix said, sighing and staring off into the distance. Hermione smiled a little sadly at that. She’d met Mrs. Tonks over the last summer and felt surprisingly curious at their relationship. 

“Go ahead and ask pet, I’m not going to bite.” Bella asked with a playful poke to Hermione’s forehead.

“Huh wha?” Hermione said dumbly. 

“You have that look that means you want to ask something on your face, ever since I mentioned Andy.” Bella explained casually, giving a playful shrug. The dark witches reaction was...well a bit unexpected, given what she’d heard about her relationship to her sister. Part of Hermione was annoyed at being read so easily, but, well...she was curious.

“So, I mean...we went to dinner once with the Tonkses last summer. The way Andy tells it you all disowned her and burnt her off the family tree? I was under the impression there was some...bad blood between you?” The fae pointed out hesitantly. 

“Well, as I’m sure you’ve guessed the rumours of such strife between us have been somewhat exaggerated.” Bellatrix said with a dismissive wave. Which, okay, Hermione had already gathered that, but that didn’t really explain what was going on? 

“B-but didn’t you threaten to k-kill Mr. Tonks? He was telling us a story about how terrified he was of you? Though he did seem to be laughing, so maybe it was like an in the moment thing?” Hermione stuttered out, trying not to poke a sleeping dragon too hard. Bella let out a sharp bark of laughter that briefly grabbed the attention of the muggles around them before Bella glared at them to mind their own business. 

“Hermione dear, if he told you all of the details of that story you’d know I had just walked in on him deflowering my baby sister. Muggleborn or no, no man would have been good enough for her and certainly not after being introduced in that way. Threatening his life and manhood was the very _least_ I could have done.” Bella said with a gloatingly smug smirk. Hermione couldn’t help the frisson of fear going down her spine. She could definitely agree with Mr. Tonks that her soulmate was terrifying. Though, in Hermione’s case, she found it kinda...hot actually. 

“While I didn’t at the time and to this day agree with her decision to date him, I do have enough self awareness to realize my soulmate is, for all intents and purposes...a muggleborn. Despite the fae blood you carry. Besides, I never even tried to follow through with my threats. Andy’s a big girl and makes her own choices” Bella continued, a stiffness entering her posture.

“I thought you hated both of them though? Why the disowning and blasting her off the family tapestry?” Hermione asked, genuinely confused. Bella paused for a second before shaking her head sadly.

“That was mostly my father’s decision. Honestly, I may have been pissed off that Ted of all people was who pushed her over the edge, but I was glad Andy got out. I just wish me and Cissy had the same courage.” Bella said, staring off into space, clearly lost in the memory. Hermione just tried to keep quiet and not interrupt the woman’s line of thought. 

“They were originally going to sell her off to Rod instead of me you know. Knowing Rod, I’d probably have gone to Azkaban years earlier if he’d been hurting my baby sister instead of me. I love her too much to have let that bastard have his way. Lord knows I’ve come close enough with Lu-lu a few times and he’s not nearly so bad.” Bella continued, her voice a hoarse broken whisper. Hermione gave her hand a brief squeeze and softly cooed at her, trying to comfort the woman, but feeling a bit awkward. 

“Is there a reason you haven’t gotten into contact with her then, if you still care about her so much?” Hermione eventually prompted, hoping, perhaps foolishly to keep the conversation moving beyond the worst of the moment.

“Cissy checks in on her from time to time. At least what she can find through the rumour mill and the paper. We heard about our niece making it into the Aurors, and it sounds like they’re all happy together.” Bella said, a melancholy smile on her face.

“Andy, she...she’s better off without all the baggage of the Blacks hounding her. She doesn’t deserve us dropping in her life and taking a giant shit on everything or fucking her happy ending up for her.” The dark witch said with a bitter hiss. 

The moment of vulnerability seemed to make Bellatrix intensely uncomfortable. Hermione could practically see the woman’s emotional walls coming up, high and strong. There was so much that Hermione wanted to say. So many parts of the conversation that really needed to be talked through and addressed. Before she could though, the world rudely interrupted them. The fae was just barely resisting the urge to pull the woman into her arms and nuzzle up to her when a soft ringing from Bella’s wand interrupted them. 

“Oh, that’s the alarm from the wards. Professor Kitty cat is here a little early I suppose. Come along pet, lets go have that chat then shall we?” The dark witch said with a dark huff. Sighing, Hermione helped hastily clean up the table and dumped the dregs of their drinks. In the few seconds that took Bella had turned on her heel and started marching. She practically had to jog to catch up to Bellatrix, the woman stalking towards the park with utter focus and control. 

With a sigh, she resigned herself to having to bring up the subject of Bella’s sister again later, and decided to just focus on making sure the meeting with McGonagall went well. 

*******************************************


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and McGonagall meet again. A cat and raven fight and bicker.

**************************************************

When Hermione caught sight of the austere emerald robed witch frantically looking around the park, her first instinct was to run to the woman and sweep her up in a huge hug. However, a cautioning hand on her shoulder held her back within the area of the disillusioned tree they’d used to approach the meeting area. 

“Hold back for just a second, pet.” Bellatrix said, fishing her wand out of its holster. The dark witch waved her way through a series of soft incantations. Hermione’s brows rose to her hairline when she swore she heard a faint “legilimens” in there somewhere. It seemed her over-protective soulmate was not fucking around. Which, on the one hand, paranoia was probably a good idea at this point, but on the other, mind reading her professor was a bit much. 

Ehhhh, better safe than sorry.

“Okay, she’s clean. No trackers or compulsion charms I can easily spot. I skimmed some of her surface thoughts, nothing concerning at least. Doesn’t look like she’s in on Dumblefuck’s recent indiscretions.” The dark haired witch confirmed, before giving the teen a gentle push into the clearing. 

Hermione gave her a brief smile before turning all her attention to meeting her mentor again. Pulling in a deep breath, she took a few steps outside of disillusioned zone and approached cautiously. She announced her presence with by awkwardly clearing her throat. The professor spun on her heel, eyes locking onto Hermione. The fae shrunk as far as she could into her hooded jacket, feeling exposed. 

“H-hi Professor. It’s me, Hermione.” Hermione stuttered out.

“What was the first piece of magic I showed you when I introduced you to the magical world?” The austere woman asked harshly, wand out and pointed threatening at the teen. 

“You charmed a teacup to dance the macarena on the table. When that didn’t convince my father you turned it into a chipmunk and back. Then, when that didn’t work, you turned yourself into your animagus form.” Hermione responded with a warm, fond smile. 

McGonagall let out a relieved puff of breath, before rushing forwards and crushing Hermione into a fierce hug. Hermione found herself tearing up and burrowing into the woman’s warm shoulder. Overwhelmed and emotional, the professor slipped into gaelic, letting out a series of relieved cursing that had the fae smiling knowingly. She’d spent enough time around the woman to pick up bits of the language, since the woman slipped into it whenever she got particularly angry or distraught (which was often, given the Weasley twins).

After a few charged minutes the older woman leaned back to look Hermione up and down, seeming to check for injuries. When her gaze took in Hermione’s face, the fae did not miss the way her eyes widened in surprise and wonder. A gentle hand came up to cup Hermione’s cheek and the witch slid back her hood. Hermione’s tawny plumage sprung free and her hair poofed up. 

“Leòmhann beag, (little lion) what happened? Why didn’t you come back tae school? Dumbledore kept insistin’ you were dead, but I refused to believe it. You had me, you had us all so very worried. Are you safe at least?” McGonagall said, voice thick and growly. The professor laid a comforting hand on Hermione’s shoulder as the teen felt herself tensing up. Now that she had to actually talk about the insanity her life had become, she felt incredibly unready to actually verbalize all that had happened. Make it real. Still, needs must, after all. 

“I just- so much happened. I have no idea where to begin.” The fae waffled.

“Start from the beginnin’ then Hermione. What happened at the battle?” McGonagall said. 

“O-okay. Well, I guess the first thing that happened is that I apparently met my soulmate.” Hermione said, voice cracking nervously. She pulled the collar of her jacket down to show off the top of the tattoo on her chest. Just the very tips of the playing owl and raven could be seen under the soft line of cotton. Still, McGonagall’s brows practically shot off her face in surprise. 

Which, fair. McGonagall had for years had a standing open door policy for Gryffindors to talk or get advice from their head of house on sundays. Hermione had been practically the only one of the boisterous House to take her up on the offer. Most preferred to leave their homework until the last minute and skive off on the weekend after all. The fae had loved asking her for new and interesting things to read, often choosing to simply do her work with the quiet woman. After long enough acquaintance they’d naturally started talking more and more, Hermione had asked her for advice on being markless more than once. 

“Apparently I was uh...under some sort of curse since I was a baby. Some sort of binding I think? I’m not sure all of the details actually, but the surge of magic from first contact with my soulmate broke it.” Hermione continued hastily. She passed a hand over herself, indicating her new features. “All of this- is the result of that. Apparently I’m a fae.”

“Bloody hell. How? The fae disappeared in the first war. Nobody knows what happened to them!” McGonagall shouted before trailing off in a series of gaelic cursing. 

“I don’t have an exact answer to that. Dumbledore did try to kill me in the atrium though. It’s why I’m not trying to get back to Hogwarts at the moment.” Hermione said, suppressing a wince at the memory. Her shoulder still ached when she paid any attention to it. 

“What?! Of all the- are ye sure?” The professor growled angrily. Hermione flinched back a step before squaring her shoulders and looking her mentor dead in the eye. She refused to back down or be intimidated, especially since she knew McGonagall was more mad at the situation than anything else. 

“Kinda hard to forget a bone breaker to the chest. I wasn’t standing near anybody else. I’d briefly escaped the death eater holding me and tried to run to him for help. He took one look at my new form and blasted me. If Mrs. Malfoy wasn’t available to heal after...I’d be dead.” The fae explained, shuddering at just how close the evening came to ending in disaster. McGonagall’s briefly gaping mouth clicked shut before she screwed herself up in an almighty rage.

“Cockheaded dodderin’ auld fool! Ah knew he was barely fit tae rin a chips shop let alone a bludy school, but thes, thes takes the goddamn cake. Why in tae bludy hell would he do that? Merlin, I need a fookin’ drink.” The dour woman ranted, vibrating as she paced back and forth in front of Hermione. 

“Why does the old goat does anything really? The paranoid bastard’s always has a scheme so convoluted and unnecessary it seems as pure insanity to us mere mortals.” Bella voice came over Hermione’s shoulder. Interjecting and announcing her own presence at perhaps not the most perfect of moments. 

McGonagall’s gaze snapped over the fae’s shoulder at a smirking Bellatrix, looking utterly unconcerned as she leaned on a nearby park bench. The professor blinked owlishly, once, twice, then tilted her head like a confused dog. Clearly the sight of the dark lords supposed right hand in a flannel and jeans had entirely broken her. 

“You!” McGonagall shouted suddenly after a few moments of silence stretching. In a flash the professors wand was out and a cluster of stunning spells were being launched at Bella. 

The dark witch started cackling, but contented herself with flicking them away with harmless with shield spells and quick dodges. Not to be thwarted, McGonagall kept on the offensive, her wand curling through a seemingly endless stream of curses and hexes. The fae was a little surprised and impressed at the normally restrained professors sheer ferocity. Though, of course, McGonagall always had a bit of a temper when she was protecting her cubs. Hermione kept shouting for them to just stop for one damn minute, but both witches ignored her. 

“Why the bludy hell aren’t ye fightin’ back lass?” The professor eventually shouted when her explosive temper eventually burnt down. The older woman was panting hard, with a sheen of sweat on her brow, but her wand was still out and steady, aimed directly at Bellatrix.

“Good to see you to Minnie, how’ve ya been?” The dark witch responded, with a taunting sneer. McGonagall’s grip on her wand tightened, her knuckles going white. She started lightly growling, her temper building back up. 

“Stop! Stop! Both of you! This is just to talk! Stop trying to fucking fight each other!” Hermione shouted in exasperation, narrowing her eyes and planting her hands on her hips in agitation. Both women seemed to snap out of their funks and glance over to the teen with sheepish looks on their faces. The professor was the first to speak, her jaw clenched, but voice back to her usual control.

“Why are you here Bellatrix? I swear, if you’ve hurt even one single solitary hair on Hermione’s head I’ll-” The professor grumbled, cutting herself off before she could escalate things further. Pointedly and with great reluctance she lowered her wand. 

“Why, I’m just helping Hermione of course. Nothing untoward.After all, it wouldn’t do to leave such a pretty young thing unattended or vulnerable.” The dark witch said with a teasing giggle. 

“You… you frustratin’, unbearable wench- if ye’ve touched her I’ll fookin’ find a way to kill ye. Goddamn it.” Mcgonagall snapped back, her wand coming right back up to point at Hermione’s oh so frustratingly bratty soulmate. Hermione sighed in exasperation. Clearly, this was just going to play out regardless of what she said about it. 

“Careful Minnie, your temper is showing. Just because your still mad about me and Lily doesn’t mean-” Bellatrix started to say before another shout forced her to duck a stunner. 

“It wasn’t just poor Lily and ye know it you harlot! How many lass’s hearts did ye break! Ye, ye...scarlet woman!” Growled out the professor, before snapping off another curse. Really, it only seemed to enhance the dark witches’ humour. The cackle was back in force. 

“Minnie, did it ever occur to you that maybe we were all just horny teens? That perhaps those girls just wanted to have a taste of something a little spicier? We all went into that knowing it was just a bit of fun. Not like I could bring them home to Cygnus.” Bellatrix said, snorting. 

"oh aye, just a bit of fun for ye, but they were crying about how much it was a mistake after!" Spat the transfiguration professor. 

"Their legendarily strict iron Lady head of house had usually just caught them being deflowered by a Slytherin in abandoned classrooms! Of course they're going to deflect blame. More than half were in my bed again the following week, laughing about it!! The other half just didn’t want to risk getting caught again!" Bellatrix barked back indignantly. 

And that was the moment that Hermione finally snapped. Really, the pair of women were just impossible. 

"For the sake of my sanity, I’m choosing to ignore that crack about Harry’s mom. However, tell me Bella, exactly how many of these girls did you 'deflower' pray tell? Hmm." Hermione snapped, narrowing her eyes and giving the woman a threatening hiss. Bella's flapping jaw snapped shut and the woman's face drained of all color. Despite her annoyance, catching her usually adaptable soulmate on the back foot was making her want to giggle.

"Shit, pet. Fuck, damn. I uh, I'm sorry, well not sorry exactly. I mean we were all consenting women of age, and it was super fun but, fucking shit that came out wrong. Look pet, I'm just... I'm just digging a deeper hole for myself, aren't I? I should shut up now. Right. Quiet Bella time." Bella rambled, looking distinctly uncomfortable and sheepish under Hermione's glare.

"That you are my dear, and that you should." Hermione said, finally relenting enough to snicker at the situation. She honestly wasn't really all that miffed about Bella having been a bit of a hound dog in her early years (mildly annoyed maybe). It's not like she expected Bella to be a some virgin saint for the decades before she met Hermione. That just wasn't in the woman's character. Heck, sleeping around was probably better than the whole torture and murder rep she’d first expected when she met the woman.

Still, a primal, growly part of her did, in fact, want to show Bella how very thoroughly _claimed_ she was now. With her fangs maybe. And some rope. Maybe a paddle or a cane. Hermione’s eyes glazed over slightly, fantasizing about riding the older woman’s gorgeous face (goddamn hormones). Later, but soon. Yes, very soon.

It was after a polite cough that Hermione noticed how McGonagall's laser like gaze had focused in on the couple's interaction. It eventually rested on Hermione, taking in the ease of the banter between them, and the way Hermione had relaxed in Bella’s presence. Her gaze was assessing and intent, and the older woman raised a brow in silent question. The expression on the professors face was quizzical, but not unkind. 

"Professor McGonagall. I guess you don't need an introduction, but this silly brat, Bellatrix soon to be black again, is apparently my soulmate." Hermione said, blushing a bit and averting her eyes for a second. She heard a sharp intake of breath before one of McGonagall’s rare, deep gut busting laughs echoed through the park. Taking a deep breath she steeled herself to pull her eyes up and glare at her professor. 

“I-I’m sorry lass. It’s just perfect. One of the most troublesome students we’ve ever had at Hogwarts with one of the most nominally rules minded. I’m sure you’ll have Mrs. Black on the straight and narrow in no time.” The professor said, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. Hermione tried not to fidget awkwardly under the professors knowing look. Still, a few seconds later McGonagall’s eyes roved to Bella and her gaze harded. 

“However, you and I, Mrs. Black, have a number of things we will be discussin’ in great depth and detail. To do with the proper treatment of and loyalty tae one of my cubs.” The scottish woman growled at Bellatrix, her magic crackling in the air around her. Hermione was honestly impressed at how her aura seemed to crush down on those surrounding her. Sure, the woman had a reputation for being stern and strict, but never this overtly threatening. Bellatrix held the Professors stare admirably, not looking away or giving an inch. 

“Absolutely. I’d never do anything to hurt her.” The dark witch promised seriously. Waiting just long enough for McGonagall to give a nod of satisfaction before adding: “unless, you know, she explicitly asked for it.”

McGongagall growled and grumbled at the incredibly bratty witch’s taunting. Hermione gave a long suffering sigh before rubbing her temples to stave off the lovely headache that seemed to be blossoming there. This day, was just...so, so very much. She was done. The fae just wanted to get what they needed to do over with and done, and then go back to the manor and cuddle. Taking a deep breath she steeled herself to push through it. 

“As delightful as your bickering is, I actually did have something I needed us to do today, can we please drop the subject and get on with it?” Hermione said, waiting for the two women to agree. It took some irate taping of toes, as well as some unsubtle glaring, but eventually both women’s hackles seemed to lower and she had their focus again. 

“Right, well...I don’t know how to say this. P-Professor-” Hermione began, voice cracking. “I-I’d like you to accompany us to investigate my parents home. We got a letter this morning...it seems like they might be…” Hermione explained, trying in vain to get the words out. It just wasn’t happening though. The pain and anger rushed up to drown her. Saying that word, dead, out loud, just...would make it more real than she could handle at the moment. 

McGonagall and Bellatrix, blessedly, seemed to be able to intuit where she was going with her comment. What’s more, they seemed to briefly put aside their grudge to support her. In a flash she was wrapped up in two sets of strong arms, trying not to cry. McGonagall made a series of soft shushing noises, while Bellatrix ran fingers through Hermione’s tawny plumage. Hermione let out a soft sad hoo and burrowed into Bellatrix’s shoulder. 

Breathing deeply, she eventually forced herself to pull herself free of their arms. The tender love, care and attention was incredibly nice, but could not come at a worse time. She’d been barely holding off the impending panic attack all day. The intimacy and care of the moment was threatening to break down the deep wall she’d temporarily locked her feelings about the situation behind. As nice and comforting as it felt, she knew she was seconds away from breaking down into a sobbing, panicky mess, and that would make it unfortunately difficult to get what needed to be done done. 

“Now, if you’ll accompany me, let's get this over with.” Hermione said, voice thick and hoarse. 

Without waiting for a response, she turned and set off in the direction of home. It wasn’t far, just a few blocks away. Maybe five to ten minutes away, tops. Still, even as two pairs of heels fell into step beside her, the distance and wait felt never ending. The sun was too hot. The stares of the Muggles were too piercing (though, Bella did reach over and cast a notice me not charm on the trio, they still seemed to sense something amiss). Their laughter and play, too light. The entire way, Hermione felt seconds away from snapping and hurting someone. She tried to force the urge down, but it was difficult. 

Finally, they arrived outside of the Granger’s nice upper-middle class suburban home. From the outside, everything looked as it normally did. The front porch, painted an ugly lime green, was still in one piece. The warm red brick walls and black angular roof were all still standing in one piece. It would almost be anticlimactic if Hermione didn’t anticipate the horrors within. The only indication that anything as even amiss was the front door standing ajar. 

That detail seemed, oddly...inviting. Hermoine felt herself gliding forward before she even consciously thought of what she was doing. She wanted to...no _needed_ to get inside. To see her family. Make sure they were alright. Do whatever it took to get them back. If she could just see inside, everything would be alright. Her parents would be back and whole and safe, and she’d have her soulmate and it’d be perfe-

A strong arm looped around her chest and a firm body tackled her to the ground. The fae let out a startled squawk and thrashed around. She hissed and pecked and scratched at the infernal being holding her. Her fangs slashed milky flesh and she felt warm, hot, delicious blood in her mouth. 

Growling, she tried once more to pull herself up to her feet, to escape, to get inside the house, but the body held fast. Instead, a glass vial found its way to her lips and was upended in her mouth. Tart, bitter potion slide it’s way down her throat. She tried to spit the vile concoction out, but a hand clamped around her mouth and nose prevented her from doing so. Her lungs burned, and eventually, reluctantly, she swallowed. 

Her head cleared within seconds. She could breathe again. She still felt a strong curiosity and desire to explore the house, but it was no longer so incredibly all consuming. Her eyes blinked over to the body on top of her. Bella, her Bella, was panting over her. McGonagall was standing beside her, looking wrecked with worry. A long gash ran down the dark witch’s forearm. Hermione paled. Gods, she was pathetic, she viciously attacked and hurt her soulmate in some weird frenzy. How could she stand to even look Bella in the eye anymore. Fuck. 

“Back with us then Pet? How are you feeling?” Her soulmate asked, a relieved and cocky grin on her face. 

“Gods below. What _was_ that?!” Hermione said hoarsely, scrubbing a hand through her hair.

“Very, very dark and naughty magic for one of the light side to be casting is what. It’s a localized and selective compulsion ward. It’s a tricky bit of magic, but dead effective if you want to lead someone you hate into a trap. Lucky I had a couple calming draughts on me to mute the effects for you.” Bella explained, her face turning hard and sharp as jagged ice. Hermione shivered, clearly whoever had set it up, was in for a reaction and a half from the Dark witch. 

“Trap? What trap?” McGonagall asked pointedly. 

“Let you magic flow out and sense the area. Look for wards specifically Minnie, behind the compulsion zone.” Bellatrix said with a sneer, as if it should be obvious. 

Pulling herself together, Hermione tried to focus on copying the technique. She’d read vaguely about ward sensing in her runes textbooks, but hadn’t really had a chance to test it out at all. The Hogwarts grounds were so incredibly dense with wards, that basically every square inch technically had some sort of ward on it. While Hermione’s home usually lacked any sort of magical aura with which to practice on. Mostly the books had just echoed her occlumency exercises, prescribing meditation, calm and focusing on feeling without feeling. Just as she was getting frustrated, she growled and _pushed_ willing herself to just, damn _see_ something. 

The world burst into amazing technicolor. 

Her house was surrounded in a shimmering azure dome of interlocking silver lines and filigree. The edges and detailing were frayed, fuzzy and seeming to twirl in and in on themselves in increasingly complex repeating fractal spirals. Hermione stared in awe at the beauty before her. At the top of the dome, however, was a thick rope of black lines flying off into the distance. 

In wonder, the fae shifted her gaze to her soulmate and mentor. Her jaw dropped. The women were surrounded by thick swirling clouds of vibrant colour. Bella’s was smokey, dark, yet iridescent, like a rainbow in an oil slick. Deadly, yet possessed with entrapping beauty. Minerva’s shone like the sun, almost physically painful to look at. Thick ropes of gold and the purest blue swirled around the professor. At various points around their bodies the clouds coalesced into thick hairball like snarls. Their wands. A necklace around McGonagall’s neck. Bella’s house ring. Anything else that was enchanted on their bodies.

Fuck, she could bloody _see_ magic.

...and it was glorious. 

This was nothing like what her runes textbooks had described. A skilled mage would be able to force their magic out of their body to explore the area around themselves. It wasn’t really visual feedback, but described more as a sense of extended touch. Almost like waving a metal detector over an object to get a sense of its shape and size. Particularly sensitive wardmaster’s could also get information about texture, function and structure that would allow them to figure out how to dismantle or augment the ward formation. This was thousands of times more intricately detailed and expressive than she’d ever heard this exercise described as. 

Huh, being a fae had some perks apparently. 

The fae’s attention was snapped up again. Dimly, she realized that while her attention was distracted by the amazing sights in front of her, Hermione’s soulmate and professor had begun bickering once more. 

“Minnie! I’m telling you, this was basically the Order’s go to strategy the entire first war! Frank and Alice ran the Auror department then, and I have no doubt Moody has almost as much clout now. I guarantee you that trigger charm on the ward will immediately send an ‘anonymous tip’ to the aurors to stop the ‘death eater attack in progress’ at this location by any means necessary.” Bellatrix shouted in frustration at the dowager professor. McGonagall and the dark witch were currently locked in a staring contest a few meters back from the ward line, vying for dominance. 

“-And I’m telling ye, that ye have nae proof of that witch! To suggest that the Order was routinely abusing it’s authority and conducting summary executions by police is just ludicrous. Ye have nae proof!” McGonagall barked back, practically vibrating in fury where she stood. 

“Proof! Proof! We tried to intercept their raids on fae households dozens of times! I saw Frank casually turning his bloody wand on goddamn toddlers time and time again. His reports after always stated they were regrettable cases of ‘friendly fire’ while trying to deal with the death eater threat. They were monsters and this bullshit is not at all out of character!” Bella shot back, angrily stabbing a hand in the direction of the wards.

“Oh, that’s rich coming from ye!” McGonagall snorted. Magic whipped up and crackled between the two in an oppressive wave. Both witches fingered their wands. Hermione could practically see their muscles coiling in anticipation of violence. 

Hermione growled in exasperation. She knew the two women were probably seconds away from coming to blows again, and this absolutely did not seem like the appropriate place for a confrontation. In a flash, she dug her wand out of her sleeve and cast her strongest stinging spell on both women’s rears. Twin yelps were heard, before two sets of shocked eyes snapped onto the fae. 

“How about, before we blow up this fucking muggle street, we all calm the _fuck_ down.” Hermione screeched, pinning them both under her harshest glare. Not letting up, she could practically feel the feathers in her hair fluffing up, big and threatening. Unconsciously, a rumbling hiss was escaping her throat and her clawed hands twitched, eager to rend and tear. Needless to say, she was feeling pretty smug at the way the two powerful women flinched and blanched under the force of her rage. 

“Now, if we can stop this fucking pissing contest for a few merlin forsaken minute minutes, can we please get back to finding out what happened to my parents!? I don’t care where the alarm goes, we know it’s bad, is there a way through the bloody ward without setting it off or not?” Hermione growled, her gaze flicking its way over to Bella.

“S-sure pet. Just give a few seconds. Won’t be a mo’ and I can probably find a flaw and open up a door in the array.” The dark witch responded sheepishly, before dashing off to circle around the property, presumably looking for weaknesses in the wards. A cleared throat directed her attention back to McGonagall, who was staring intently at her. 

“Hermione dear, are you feeling quite alright?” McGonagall said. Hermione quirked a brow in silent question before the professor hesitantly made a gesture towards Hermione’s face. “Your eyes are, well they are glowing with purple fire at the moment.” The professor said, her face scrunching up in a worried frown. 

“Oh, I was focusing on trying to see the wards just now. Seems like I activated some sort of mage sight. Must be something to do with being fae, though I’m still learning as I go.” Hermione eventually responded with a shrug. She always felt a bit awkward when her favorite professor asked her a question for which she didn’t have an immediate answer. Her professor still didn’t look quite satisfied, and eventually screwed herself up to press further.

“I guess. I wasn’t just asking about that though. How are you, really? Especially with that… _woman_ as your soulmate?” The normally stern professor asked, though her voice betrayed nothing but genuine concern and warmth for Hermione. That more than anything decided her on opening up a bit. Even if it came with a none to subtle dig are her soulmate. It would be nice to have a confidant again who wasn’t quite so tied up in any one side of the war as Bella. 

“Honestly, I’m...I’m just trying to take it one day at a time and stay alive. There's bad blood between Bella and the rest of the death eaters as well that I factor pretty heavily in. We’re trying to get out and keep ourselves safe, but it’s a process. It’s not like I’m swapping to the Dark Side or anything.” Hermione assured the woman, nibbling on her bottom lip. She tried not to take the sudden release of tension in McGonagall’s shoulders too personally. The fae understood Bella turning the fae was a…not irrational concern after all. She’d do almost anything for Bella after all.

“Aye, that’s good to hear. I know it’s early days, but...is she treating you right? Not pressuring you into anything?” McGonagall whispered, clearly hesitant to openly accuse Hermione’s long pined after soulmate of anything specific. 

“Absolutely. I trust Bella implicitly. Since the battle, she’s the only one I know that is unequivocally, totally and specifically on my side. She’s already saved my life more than once, and been the perfect gentleman through everything.” The fae assured urgently. It was absolutely vital that her mentor knew how the Bella she knew differed from the Bellatrix LeStrange the press knew. McGonagall gave a solemn nod, though her face looked a bit pinched at acknowledging the relationship between her former and current students. 

“It’s not just that though, what about all these wild conspiracies about the Order she’s spouting?” McGonagall huffed, clearly just holding back a disbelieving snort. Hermione internally groaned. Of course the woman was a stickler for going by the book, and liked to think the best of everyone. She certainly had her work cut out for her over the next few hours if she was to convince her to fully turn on Dumbledore.

“I...don’t necessarily want to believe her accusations against Dumbledore and the early Order, but I’m having a hard time reconciling anything else. Like all of us, she’s limited by her own perspective...but I don’t think she’s lying or fabricating accusations wholecloth. It lines up with all my recent experiences at least.” Hermione explained levelly. The fae studied the posture of her mentor. She noticed the defensive fingering of her wand, the dubious glint in her eyes and how she was just barely holding herself back from arguing back. 

Clearly, she was not going to win this argument just by talking and arguing with her. McGonagall was even one of the more moderate light witches out there. Convincing not just her, but some of the more fanatical members of the Order of the Phoenix was clearly shaping up to be a herculean task. Oh well, the important thing was planting the seed of suspicion at least. Then maybe getting some hard evidence to back it up. Which, after all, was what they were here for anyway. 

“Maybe she just doesn’t have all the facts or could be genuinely mistaken? Still, if she is right, that changes everything for me. I’m at least of the opinion that just means we should try to investigate right? No harm in taking her claims seriously and seeing if there’s any truth to them.” Hermione hedged and holding herself back from viciously cursing and snarling about controlling old goats. She knew that wouldn’t play well with the composed woman, and would probably just bring back fears about Bella corrupting the teen again. Luckily, the appeal to truth, evidence and justice seemed to work marvelously. 

“I’ll grant you that one lass. We can at least investigate what’s going on and what happened with your parents.” McGonagall responded, adjusting her glasses and grimacing. Just then Hermione’s wonderful soulmate gave a happy shout.

“There, got it open pet! We’re in!”

Hermione took a deep breath and steeled herself for the possible carnage within her family home.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst angst angst.
> 
> Seriously, Hermione finds her dead and torture parents' bodies. Plot and feelings happen, but meow.

* * *

Hermione had the most distracting loud buzzing in her ears. Her heart was thumping away in her chest, a rabbit of confused anxiety. She was feeling...feeling simultaneously too much and not nearly enough. She knew something was wrong with that, that it was the _wrong_ way to feel, but she couldn’t help it. She was just a ship of sensation thrown to sea on a hurricane of chaos. 

The sounds around her echoed while being somehow both muted and too loud. Like listening to loud music while submerged underwater. Gentle hands smoothed over her hunched shoulders, but she didn’t really feel them. Though, she supposed, they were probably gripping tightly if the way the body was shaking her shoulder was any indication. Meanwhile though, the sharp bite as her talon like nails piercing through her clenched fist lanced through her body like a hot prong. 

Her eyes roved in front of her, taking in the scene McGonagall, Bellatrix and her had walked into. Her brain screamed at her, raging and sobbing over the horror of the situation. Meanwhile, a lackadaisical voice in her mind droned on. Noting in an almost clinical tone the various details of what occured hours prior in Hermione’s kitchen.

The table was set for tea. Though, currently the table had been smashed, resulting in a shattered kettle spreading it’s dark brown contents across the floor. Likely the loose leaf Russian Breakfast blend her Mom reserved for special guests. Shards and chips from several cups dotted the floor, leaving the room treacherous to walk. 

Two adult bodies, one male and one female lay in the pool of tea, slowly turning the liquid reddish as blood seeped from cuts on their arms. The man, her father, was lying face down and releasing the most awful smell. His bowels, apparently had vacated themselves at some point in the preceding hours. The woman, her mother, faced her death head on, and was currently laying on her back. Her sightless dull eyes bore into Hermione’s soul, utterly captivating. 

She raised a shaking hand and closed them, unable to bear their intense accusation any longer. 

Her eyes swept down, noting the way blood pooled around her Mom’s hands and mouth. She reached out to pull her Mom close and get a better look. Several of her nails had been ripped clean off. One of which had seemingly been lodged between the cracks of the tile floor. Perhaps a result of thrashing and struggling under the cruciatus. Her Mom’s slightly gaping mouth showed where the end of her tongue had been bitten mostly through in the struggle. The tip however, still horrifically dangled from a thin strip of flesh. 

Her brain short circuited. Sending what felt like a jolt of lightning through her system.

Too much, it was too much. She couldn’t, she just couldn’t.

Hermione was running, sprinting like a mad demon out of hell itself. She didn’t even notice when her shoulder slammed into the gut of the woman behind her, who had been futilely trying to shake her out of her stupor. She had to get away, far away, do something about her throat. Oh god, it burned, the bile pushing itself up into her gorge, choking her. She ran, ran round a corner here, down the hallway there, towards a bright room of cool tile and silvered mirrors. Her knees cracked painfully as she dropped down in a rush.

Her hurling gasps, trembling cries and the wet splash of her stomach upending itself into the toilet echoed through the room. Acid filled her nose, making her eyes water even more than her half hysterical sobbing and retching. Warm hands found her back and rubbed soothing circles over them. Her magic tingled, like those fingers shot little jolts of electricity all throughout her as they passed over her body. It grounded her, filled her with a heat that broke through the haze in her brain and tapered off her retching. Soft shushing sounds coaxed her up onto her haunches, and to bury herself into a soft chest. 

Her arms latched on around slim shoulders, squeezing as hard as she could. Afraid the body would disappear and then she’d be all alone again, with just the bodies of her parents. The cold, dead, mutilated bodies. 

Hermione shudders. 

...and looks up to find herself drowning in Black curls and sad dark eyes. Not pitying, no, pity would make it worse. These eyes were filled with determination and power, like a freshly forged goblin steel blade.

“Back with us Pet?” Bellatrix asks, softly. She scratches up and down Hermione’s arms as she waits for her answer. The fae tries to respond, really she does, but all that comes out is a series of halting croaks. Bellatrix doesn’t force her to respond though, merely waits and lets her lead. 

She appreciates the woman so,so much in that moment. 

“I-I didn’t expect it to be quite so h-horrible.” Hermione whispers, afraid to let her thoughts and feelings really air. Still though, in this moment, nothing else exists but her and those dark, soulful eyes. They are her rock, her anchor to this world, without them she’s almost certain she’d simply float away into the ether. 

“No, nobody ever does pet. The first time one sees death like that, it’s always an event. Always horrible. When you should be worried is when it no longer bothers you.” Her dark witch responded, pulling Hermione into a firm hug. A soft, wet little sniffle escaped the fae as she buried back into Bella’s warmth. Her throat trembled and warbled. Soft, sad hoots broke the deathly stillness of the bathroom. Half of which turned into wheezing snorts or gasping desperate breaths. 

Time passed slowly. It feels to the fae like they spent an interminable age cuddling together in shared misery. She expects the slowness was, to some extent at least, mostly in her head. The afternoon sun was still high in the air through the window after all. Eventually though, she does manage to wrench herself back up to her feet. She even managed to wipe off her face and wash the vomit out of her mouth at the sink.

She turns around to see McGonagall hovering awkwardly in the doorway with Bella. Both have worried frowns on their faces. Bella’s in particular seems conflicted. She supposes her soulmate desperately wants to drag her off somewhere else, somewhere more comforting, but also knows there’s a reason the trio is here today. A goal in mind, aside from just getting closure. 

Hermione knows it too, and needs must. 

“Okay, we’re going to go down to the basement. I must warn you to keep as tight a hold on your magic as possible, regardless of what we find. There are some muggle devices we need access to that are fairly sensitive to strong magic. I shielded them with a few runic arrays, but it might not be enough if they get hit directly with a blast of accidental magic.” The fae explained monotonously. She used every ounce of her willpower and stubbornness to stuff everything she was feeling straight back down. Now was not the time for moping, now was the time for action. 

“Rune shielded muggle devices? I wasn’t aware there was such a thing.” McGonagall asked, a surprised look on her face. Hermione let a half hearted smirk play on her face, even as she lead their way to the basement stairs. 

“You wouldn’t be. Muggleborns have been getting more and more organized with the internet you know. We made an online chatroom in second year so all of us could talk over the summer. A few of the kids have older siblings who’ve experimented with all sorts of ways of integrating magic into muggle homes.” Hermione explained, feeling amused at the baffled looks the two older woman shot her. 

“Pet, what’s the inside of a net got to do with runic theory?” Her dark witch asked, tilting her head like a confused dog. Hermione couldn’t help but let out a brief giggle as she paused at the top of the staircase.

“Err, lets just say it’s a little like a muggle floo, except it only sends letters, pictures or other information.” Hermione hedged, glad to get at least a half sort of understanding nod in return. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders before pushing the door to the basement open. 

“Look, whatever you see down there, let me handle it. Remember, no magic!” Hermione hissed, briefly glancing over her shoulder at the two women. After each gave her a firm nod, she started down the creaky stairs. 

When Hermione’s feet hit concrete she reached out for the pull string to turn on the lights. They flickered periodically on and off every 30 seconds or so.The only sounds were the breathing of the women, the swish of robes and the periodic drip-drip-drip of a leaky faucet. The air was stale, damp and musty. A shudder went down her spine at the memories trying to push their way up into her consciousness. The fae forced them down. She had to focus after all, her goal was on the other side of the basement.

In her father’s “workroom.”

She whimpered, ignoring the concerned looks her soulmate and professor sent her.

On hesitant feet, she set off across the space. Piles of half mouldy storage boxes were scattered all around. Shelves of jars and preserves lined the walls. An ageing couch and coffee table were in the corner, a half empty beer bottle was still laid out on top of it. Finally they got to the far wall and the steel door within it, shut tight with a combination padlock. A complicated runic circle covers the door,shielding it from the rest of the house. Hermione flipped through the numbers quickly till it popped open. She’d memorized it from one too many times being dragged down here to be yelled at. 

The room opens and her two followers gasp. The entire wall is covered with an array of new CRT monitors. A lone desk with a chunky desktop computer rests below them. Masses of wires and other electronics rest below the desk. The whole setup cost an arm and a leg for her father. After all, home computers had just recently been starting to make headway into the market. He was a cutting edge adopter of computer technology, strongly motivated as he was. After all, he needed to take care of his family and business.

That's not what has her witches gasping though. After all, they probably have no idea what this all costs. It's what's displayed on the monitors that has them boiling with suppressed fury. Each monitor showed a different feed of some new area of the house. The living room, the kitchen, her bedroom, her parents bedroom, even the washrooms were all displayed from the security cameras her father had purchased. Allegedly, they were for his dental practice after a break in caused him to get serious about security. In reality, he just wanted to keep a close eye on his darling wife and daughter. You know, to ensure they never did anything "untoward” or “embarrassing.”

And just as she'd expected, a pure blood wizard like Dumbledore had no idea what they were when he’d visited her parents earlier today.

"Pet?" Her soulmate whispered fearfully. 

"Just...give me a second and I'll pull up the tapes from yesterday please. No questions for now." Hermione said, voice cracking. Her trembling fingers fumbled their way down to the bank of recorders under the desk, and popped out the tape labelled "kitchen." She brought it up to the playback VCR that transferred the video file to their computer (after all, her father needed to review what they did...daily) and pushed it in. It took a few minutes to rewind through it, but eventually she did find the moment we're distinctly grainy versions of Dumbledore and mad-eye Moody had settled down with her parents for tea. Slowly, her hand reached out to hit the play button, trembling all the way. 

“Is everything alright Professor? You look...stressed. Is, is everything alright with Hermione?” Nervously asked Hermion’s mother. It was hard to tell with the grainy and fuzzy image, but she looked to be wringing her hands with worry and sitting on the edge of her seat. Hermione felt her throat closing and her stomach clenching as she watched with rapt attention.

“I’m afraid I have some bad news Mr. and Mrs. Granger. Hermione and a group of her friends left school to visit the ministry of magic. While there they got caught up in an extremist attack several days ago. Everyone was accounted for except Hermione, who we believe to have been kidnapped.” Dumbledore replied somberly. Hermione felt a tear go down her face when she saw her mother collapse back into her chair, like a puppet with its strings cut. 

“So, the freaks you always talked about got to her then?” Hermione’s father asked with a dark snort. Moody and Dumbledore seemed to merely raise amused eyebrows towards his venomous tone, whereas her mom flinched violently beside them. Hermione grit her teeth. His cold reaction wasn’t exactly unexpected, but dealing with his indifference and annoyance never got easier. Hermione found herself torn between tears over her mother and acidic anger over his reaction. 

“I’m afraid so Mr. Granger. I’m afraid so. Now, as I’m sure you’ll understand we need to find out exactly who may have been privy to certain details about her life and adoption here. If you’ve told anyone about her, they would be our first suspects. Otherwise there would be no reason to specifically target her.” The old man asked, an entirely too intent posture coming over his body. Hermione felt a shiver go down her spine. Doddering old fool or not, the man could exude intensity like nothing else when he actually tried. 

“Professor, there’s… we’ve never told anybody anything about the whole affair. Even family. All we’ve ever told them is that it was a closed adoption from a private firm, and that we wouldn’t like to talk about it further. Nobody would have heard anything from us.” Hermione’s mom was quick to interject, a panicked note in her voice. Surprisingly, her dad actually seemed to catch on to her emotional state and actually tried to comfort her. Sure the heavy hand he placed on her shoulder seemed to make her flinch, but after a second she did actually lean into his grasp for comfort. 

“I believe you, of course.” Dumbledore said after a few seconds of intense staring between both of her parents. The old man seemed to be entirely too careful to wait until they turned to face him fully, making her wonder if he was using legilimency on them. However, after a moment the elderly headmaster leaned forward and placed his wand onto the table, a clear threat.

“However, the reality of us placing her here with you was not what I was specifically referring to. Tell me, Mr. and Mrs. Granger, have either of you confided in anybody about our yearly appointments with your daughter?” Dumbledore said, icy tone radiating menace. Hermione’s mom qualied and stepped back behind her dad. 

“Of course not! What am I going to do? Tell the milkman about how the fucking wizard jackass who dropped her off all those years ago kept coming back? How he’d do some weird Jedi mind trick thing to force us to drug our daughter for days on end? How he’d cut and drain her into jars like a bloody hoarding vampire for days at a time? All while we were forced to stand around like zombie-puppets? Do you honestly think anybody would have believed us about any of it?” Her dad barked out, his face turning that funny shade of purple it did when he got supremely pissed off at her. 

Hermione felt the fuzzy sensation in her head coming back, like the world was suddenly off kilter again. She couldn’t force herself to tear her eyes from the screen, too caught up in the shattering revelations going on. She tried to think back, to remember what they were talking about, but everything was far too fuzzy but yet too sharp. She remembers getting violently sick every year around November. It was always chalked up to the flu, but she never could really remember it afterwards. All she remembered was floating in an unending space of delirious pain and sensation. 

The video played on, ignoring the alarmed exclamations of McGonagall and Bellatrix beside her as Hermione’s sharp nails dug in and squealed against the metal desk.

“Mrs. Granger, please look at me. Is what your husband says true? Neither of you told anybody about our yearly ‘check-ups?’ ” Dumbledore asked firmly, dismissing Mr. Granger from his attention. It took several seconds, but the woman did eventually look him in the eye and nod shakily. Instantly, Dumbledore’s posture relaxed, a tension seeming to evaporate from his form.

“Good, good. Everything is as it should be then. I believe you both, and I think that will be the end of the questions for the day.” The headmaster said with a sly smile. 

“Great, then get out and find our daughter!” Mr. Granger shouted back, pointing a hand out the door. 

“Oh, I will be endeavoring to locate your lost child of course. But first, as much as it pains me, Alastor and I have one last task here before we shall be on our way. To ensure the safety of this information, no sacrifice is to great. For the greater good, of course.” Dumbledore said, voice silky and devious. Hermione felt her pulse pick up in fearful anticipation. This was it, this was the moment she was dreadi-

“Crucio.” Two voices chanted in unison to the gasps and growls of the three women watching the recording. The picture flickered in and out as the powerful magic blasted the room. Though, it seemed that since none of it was specifically directed at the cameras, they still remained mostly functional. 

Hermione wasn’t sure if she should be thankful or resentful of that fact. Since, fucking hell. The screams were... oh god, the screams were _awful_. They were high pitched, wailing and utterly desperate. They were two voices, cracking in time with thumps and scrapes as bodies flailed. Dishes and china were knocked from the table, crashing to the floor as wet rips and tears were heard. Hermione felt bile rising in her throat and desperately reached out to hit the fast forward button on the tape. Even so, the stupid machine still skipped through parts of the audio and video. 

Even sped up, the screams seemed to last forever.

Finally they stopped, and Hermione let the video play at normal speed again.

“Do either of you have any last words? Or will you meet god with your hearts burdened by worldly worries?” Dumbledore asked, over the pained groaning of Hermione’s parents.

“Fuck you, you bloody bastard! I hope Hermione finds out about all this bullshit and ends up dancing on your corpse one day!” Her Mom shouted venomously. Even through all the horror and sadness she was feeling she felt a pang of fondness in her chest. Fucking hell she loved her Mom so mu-

“Avada Kedavra.”

Her Mom falls to the floor, dead. 

Hermione wails briefly, wiping furiously at her eyes as the screen blurs. 

“-and you, Mr. Granger?” Dumbledore asks, voice stern. From his position on the floor, Hermione watches as her Dad heaves himself up onto his elbows. Watches him strain and lift his head. Watches him stare directly at the camera. Feels as he seems look her directly in the eye. 

“Hermione, I-I...I’m sorry. I s-shouldn’t have been so hard on you. I guess I thought, I-I thought if you were just _normal_ he’d leave us alone. I...I know it didn’t feel like it, but we...we really did love you. Kick this cunts’ ass you freaky genius.” Her Dad croaked out, addressing her more kindly than he had in...well _years_ at this point. Hermione felt like she’d been punched in the chest as a second avada took him from her as well. Deathbed confession or not.

Hermione was running again, bursting out of the room and back into the basement proper. She gave a harsh screeching cry that echoed through the enclosed space. What fucking good was her Dad finally give her a halfhearted _bullshit_ apology for once in his damn life if he could only do it as he was about to bloody die. The icy simmering rage at Dumbledore’s betrayal flared to molten heat once more. The utter fucking bastard had apparently been messing with her life since the very fucking begining. Every bruise, every shouted lecture and insult...all of it had at least been indirectly caused by the old fucking goat. 

Every. Single. One.

Oh, killing the bastard may not even be enough. The control freak deserved far worse than a swift death. He deserved torture, indignity and shame everlasting. That showed him how utterly he had failed in everything he’d ever attempted. That caused him more pain than she could even fathom.

A vicious snarl ripped itself out of her throat. Suddenly she couldn’t just stand there and fucking _process_ it for one goddamn second longer. She needed to move, needed action, needed to fucking _break_ something. Barely under her own control her hands whipped out, picking up a jar of pickles her Mom had made last year. With a screech, she flung it against the wall to shatter and drip down onto the floor. The crash and crunch was satisfying, fulfilling some primal urge within her. 

She wanted more. 

She picked up a can of beans this time, whipping it with all her strength against the wall. Then a box of old movies they put in storage got picked up and shattered against the floor. Then, then just breaking one thing wasn’t enough. Her magic picked up and with a wordless, wandless gesture an entire shelving unit collapsed in on itself. 

She ignored the panicked shouting of her mentor. Instead, she grinned viciously as she vented her boiling temper. She ignored the darkness descending as the lone lightbulb popped, replaced by a muttered lumos. Instead she ran forwards on trembling legs to slash her claws along the wall, leaving deep gouges carved into the concrete. She ignored the sharp stabbing sensations as the glass on the ground cut open her feet through her shoes, even as shoes padded up to her stealthily. 

Then a set of strong arms clasped around her shoulders from behind, pinning her arms to her sides. The growling rumble in her throat filled the space as she bucked against the body holding her. An arm loosened before a hand came up to her hair, fisting in the thick curls and feathers painfully. She felt her head wrench to the side even as a set of teeth clamped down into the side of her neck. Her growls were matched and answered by the strong body burying it’s teeth into her smooth skin. They fought for dominance, Hermione jerking and shuddering in the bodies’s grip. Those teeth and arms held firm though, pinning the fae tightly and not giving her an inch to move. 

Hermione lost, eventually going boneless in the other woman’s arms and submitting to her will. 

By that point, the rush of rage and violence inside Hermione slowly began to cool. It turned slowly back to the familiar icy grudge. A guilty voice inside her head realized how much of a pointless, childish mess she’d just made. A guilty little whining warble slid out of her throat. The contrite tone of which caused a familiar husky chuckle to rumble against her skin. 

“Done throwing a tantrum now pet?” Bellatrix teased after releasing her teeth from the fae’s throat and spinning Hermione around to face her. Her tone was light to take the sting out of the rapprochement. The fae hooted affirmatively and leapt forward to bury herself in the older woman’s shoulder. Somehow Bella’s arms just made her feel safe, let her forget for a moment and pretend her world was still okay. 

“We’ll get him Pet. Dumbledore will pay dearly for this.” Her dark witch growled out, running a hand through Hermione’s hair soothingly. The fae chirruped at her, nodding against Bella’s body. McGonagall cleared her throat after a few months and Hermione moved to pull away. Instead, Bella just gripped Hermione tighter, forcing the fae to blush as she turned to face her professor. 

“Hermione, I can’t tell you how sorry I am that...that all this seems to have happened. I can’t imagine what you’re going through. I think...I think I need to go and talk to some of the Order I trust. They have to know about this. Albus is...he’s gone crazy.” McGonagall said, staring distractedly off into space. 

Hermione’s expression turned soft as she took in the wounded expression on her professors face. Hermione had gone into this expecting it to be bad, and it was, but to add that shock and surprise factor on top of everything else? She was a little surprised the woman hadn’t had her own breakdown yet. With a quiet nod, she reluctant extricated herself from Bella’s arms to give the other woman a quick hug. McGonagall stiffened briefly at the unexpected contact, but after a short sucked breath gave her a squeeze back. 

“Okay, why don’t you head off to do that. I think I want to...clean up a few things here with Bella first before I leave.” Hermione said, giving a sad little hoot as the woman reluctantly disappeared up the steps and out of the building. Once she was gone a weighty silence descended on the basement. Slowly Hermione turned to Bella, who was staring intently at her. The dark witch's gaze was assessing, but not unkind. Like she was clearly worried and trying to avoid stepping on a landmine.

“We really should get going home soon pet. I...I don’t like the thought of you sticking around here much longer.” Bella said, her tone edging towards increasingly concerned.

“I couldn’t agree more Bella, but I think there’s one thing I want to do first. This fight isn’t just between the Order and the Death Eaters. People need to know how fucking _insane_ Dumbledore is. It’s the first step towards ruining the bastard.” Hermione said with a growl.

“Well, what did you have in mind?” Bella asked, arching an eyebrow in question.

“You remember the muggle floo I was talking about?” Hermione asked, waiting for Bella to nod along. 

“What do you think would happen if every Muggleborn student at Hogwarts got a copy of a video showing their headmaster and former defense professor violently torturing and killing the parents of one of his students?” Hermione asked, a vicious little smirk planting itself firmly on her face. 

Bellatrix flashed her a grin like a hyena that’s just found a fresh corpse. 

“I’d guess I’d say that you _really_ should have been in Slytherin.”


	9. Learning Blood Magic for Fun and Profit!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Bella decompress from the events at the Granger's house. Plus they do some research on this whole blood magic thang.

* * *

The week following Hermione’s trip to investigate her parents death was...emotional, to say the least. The rest of the day following their initial investigation of her parents murder wasn’t too bad. Hermione was focused. She had a goal.

Fucking _ruin_ Dumbledore.

As their first step, they had to take a few hours to make over a dozen copies of the security camera feeds showing the Order murdering her parents. Unfortunately, Hermione knew that gemini duplication charms tended to destroy muggle electronics. It took ages to individually and painstakingly copy the footage to all the other tapes. Well meaning she may be, but Bella wasn’t exactly proficient with muggle electronics, so Hermione took the lead in operating the VHS machine. The tape was far too precious to risk the frail media from jamming, being destroyed or otherwise damaged. All of which was beyond frustrating and Hermione was feeling incredibly out of sorts by the evening.

Not to mention that when copying onto a new tape the machine “helpfully” previewed what it was writing in fast-forward, just to make sure you were copied what you wanted. Oh, and it played the same fast-forward preview in reverse when she rewound the original to copy onto the next tape.

The fae didn’t think she’d ever forget the high pitched sped up screams. Not after hearing them more than a dozen times backwards and forwards.

Which is to say, by the time they’d gotten all the tapes into muggle packages and pawned them off to a very confused post-office employee (Bella didn’t trust the owl post not to be monitored after all) Hermione was a fucking _wreck._

She couldn’t get out of bed the next day. Or the day after that. Or the day after that.

Everything she was feeling was just too big and too overwhelming. She’d never felt quite so bowled over by her own emotions before, going almost catatonic when she wasn’t desperately sobbing. Not to mention that Malfoy manor wasn’t exactly welcoming on the best of days, what with all of the Death Eaters in residence. She knew if she left Bella’s bedroom she’d have to be on guard for them. To watch out and make sure none took advantage of her. Bella’s bed was the one safe space the fae still had. The one place where she was comfortable and warm and nothing else bad was going to happen to her. She wasn’t going to risk leaving.

She was only even more sad at how her bout of depression seemed to worry Narcissa and Bellatrix. When she was dozing or half awake she’d occasionally hear them whispering about her. Narcissa apparently was concerned that removing the curse holding back her fae abilities had more of an impact on her personality than expected. Which, to be honest, seemed pretty reasonable. Back when she had the binding on her soul, she never really had to deal with the full force of her emotions. It was always muted and easy to push away. To focus on the next book or thing to learn. A coping technique that Bella luckily figured out through some subtle, patient questioning, and was able to take great advantage of.

After all, having a mystery to solve and something important to learn were when Hermione was happiest. It might have been a distraction, but Hermione desperately needed to feel something other than overwhelming sadness and hopelessness for once. To be forced out of the rut she was stuck in and get moving again. Unfortunately, the dark lord was being (as usual) paranoid about the comings and goings from the manor. Hermione was too valuable an asset to just let waltz off to pop down to the cafe and get some fresh air.

Hence Bella suggested what was probably the single most brilliant and lovely idea Hermione had ever heard at that moment. One for which she’d be eternally grateful to her for. They needed to get a clearer idea of what all Dumbedore could have done with the blood he’d stolen from Hermione over the years. Research was therefore required. However, accurate books on fae blood magic were exceedingly rare and closely guarded. Often such books were tied to specific family lines, libraries or even charmed to only be readable by other fae.

Luckily Black Manor had just such a collection. Accessible only to those of Black blood or soulmates thereof. One full of books that were far, far too fragile to let travel, of course my Lord. Honestly! No hint of a lie or exaggeration! Of course, Hermione just _had_ to come with Bellatrix, and the research would likely take _several_ weeks. This was actually mostly true, and gave them the perfect excuse to get Hermione out of the Manor for one of the most enlightening weeks of Hermione’s life.

All because of a sassy drunk named Cassiopeia Black.

To hear Bella’s fond, wistful telling of the story, her mercurial great aunt was the sole positive maternal influence on her life. Cassiopeia was the sort of fun, quick to a joke vodka mom that made living under the heavy formalness of the ancient and most noble house of Black bearable. They saw each other often at the numerous formal engagements and parties the Black sisters were expected to attend practically since birth. Where Bellatrix’s own mother would spend most of those evenings drilling proper manners into her charges, Cassiopeia...simply didn’t care.

Every time Auntie Cassi came over she always had a big hug for all her favorite nieces, forgoing the formal curtsy completely. Awkward small talk was replaced by wide eyed wonder and curiosity about all the myriad things Bella was learning. Whenever Druella got particularly nasty to her daughters, Cassi was there to tell her to “piss off you stuck up bitch!” and laugh about the twitching in Druella’s eyebrows. That’s not even getting into how much fun she had halfway through the parties when she got drunk enough to start pranking the guests or playing with her metamorphmagus talents.

* * *

**  
** **FLASHBACK**

“You know pet, you would have absolutely loved Aunt Cassi.” Bellatrix hummed, staring off fondly into the empty space of their bedroom.

“Oh?” Hermione questioned, grinning fondly at the uncharacteristic softness on her soulmates face. Soft Bella was one of her kryptonite’s after all.

“Yeah. She was...she was...so, so brilliant. Like, she was absolutely mad and didn’t care one fucking whit about what anybody thought or said about her. She may have been a Ravenclaw, but she would have given all you Gryffindor troublemakers a far run for your money!” The dark haired witch said with a teasing smirk.

“Hey! That’s not fair Bella! Gryffindors are proud, noble and brave. We don’t make trouble, we only end it!” Hermione huffed out, slapping Bella playfully across the arm.

“Oh sure sure. I believe you my proud, noble lioness.” Bella chortled back. Hermione let out a dangerously low hoot and narrowed her eyes at her soulmate threateningly. The brat however, merely reached out to ruffle the tufts of feathers on top of Hermione’s head, making her hair go all poofy and frizzy.

Hermione didn’t like that, oh no she didn’t.

What followed was perhaps one of their sillier moments in recent memory. Hermione screeched and lunged at her brat of a soulmate. Unconsciously her face shifted, curling her lips into more of a short sharp beak. Which she started using to peck relentlessly at Bella hands. Somehow though, they kept finding ways through the barrage to pat or ruffle Hermione’s tufts even further. The screech turned into a warbling growl as Hermione launched herself at her soulmate.

Less than 5 seconds later Hermione found herself straddling Bella, holding the dark witches hands above her head. Neither witch much cared how they got into that particular position. After all, sensing an opportunity, Hermione had shifted her face back to more human features and was now viciously snogging her mate. The fae was warbling, high and joyously in the back of her throat. Even sometimes taking on a growly, distinctly horny undertone here and there. Especially when Bellatrix groaned hotly and wrapped her legs around Hermione’s hips.

 _Fucking hell_ Bella grinding her crotch against Hermione was beyond anything the fae ever expected out of the day.

The noises turned distinctly more into stunned hoots when Bella started growling and flipped their positions. The feral smirk on the dark witch’s pouty lips was positively _unfair_ as she straddled Hermione. Especially when her nails trailed down Hermione’s arms and skin, digging in with delicious pressure.

“There. See what I mean.” Bellatrix husked out, her blackened orbs boring into Hermione from less than an inch away. The fae found her breath caught in her throat, so it took a second to really respond.

“W-what?” Hermione stuttered.

“See, little kitty cat griffins, always getting into trouble. You, missy, are lucky you’re so cute.” Bella said, voice full of mischievous mirth. Just to be a brat, the dark witch gave Hermione’s nose a quick boop with her finger, starting the rumbling screech back up again.

“Ah, ah, ah. Wouldn’t do to be a naughty wittle birdy. Otherwise you might get tied to your perch so the big bad Bella can have her naughty way with you.” Bellatrix chided, laughing when Hermione whimpered back needily.

That...actually sounded pretty fucking swell right about now actually. Though, Hermione knew she’d have a hard time denying Bella anything she wanted. _Especially_ horny things.

“Please!” Hermione begged in a warbling coo. Bellatrix leaned back and grinned, looking quite like the cat that got the canary.

A loud clap resounded through the room as the dark witch brought palms together harshly.

“I think that’s enough fun for now my dear. When I have my way with you, I’m going to be doing it right. Not a rushed job on the floor of the Black library.” Bellatrix said, smirking like the bratty bitch she was.

Hermione hissed dangerously, but ultimately took a deep breath and backed down.

“So, as I was saying, before the _troublemaker_ so rudely interrupted me.” Bellatrix said pointedly but altogether too casually. Like they weren’t just snogging each other desperately.

Hermione hooted indignantly. She firmly maintained that she was not a troublemaker. Despite all evidence to the contrary. Lies! Lies and slander!

“Aunt Cassi was seriously the best. Like, the only reason any of us ever had any goddamn fun at all the stuffy formal events all the Black’s were supposed to go to.” Bellatrix continued on, getting that fond nostalgic look in her eyes again. Hermione found herself deflating and listening with rapt attention. Anybody who was this important to Bella was worth knowing about after all.

“While all the rest of the grown ups and the guests were busy getting fancy drunk and sucking each others ego’s off, she was always planning something. Why, this one time, she’d actually recently invented something of a cross between veritaserum and forgetfulness potion.” The dark witch explained, pausing when she saw the way Hermione’s head had tilted curiously.

“Basically, when she spiked the punch with it, all the drunks started blurting out their deepest, secrets without remembering any of it seconds later.” Bellatrix said, chortling at Hermione shocked, amused and scandalized expression.

“You would not _believe_ what we started hearing. I mean, I’m not one for kink shaming or anything, but I don’t think anyone had any idea the minister had quite that many mistresses. I lost count after about ten or so. Especially when his wife was off discussing the details of the sultry affair she was having with his brother...and father...and several of his cousins. All while comparing the sizes of their johnsons” The dark witch continued explaining, before cracking.

“Oh, my fucking merlin. That’s awful!” Hermione squeaked out. Though her point was maybe undercut by the fit of giggles that had overtaken her.

“Seriously! We just barely avoided a diplomatic incident because none of them could remember any of it. I think the only reason old Arctururs didn’t disown her was because of the vast amount of political leverage and dirt the whole stunt dug up. We _ruled_ the wizengamot for nearly a decade after. It was amazing.” Bellatrix continued, her voice lively and so deeply amused and fond in a way Hermione didn’t think she’d quite ever heard before. It made her so sad and happy and grateful that Bella had at least one adult to brighten her childhood up a bit.

“I’m glad you had her.” The fae said, a fond smile on her face.

“Yeah. Me to. She was...the best of us.” The dark witch replied, eyes watery but clearly refusing to let a single tear fall.

Hermione left it at that and pulled her mate into a gentle hug.

 

* * *

Needless to say, It was fairly apparent to Hermione that a certain amount of Aunt Cassi’s playful personality had clearly rubbed off on a teenaged Bellatrix. Starved as she was for any positive attention, she must have been something of a role model for the teen.

It was only years later, when Bella’s family was processing Cassiopeia’s affairs after her untimely passing that she learned the family secret. The one that necessitated Hermione coming along on this little information gathering expedition to Black Manor. According to a series of letters she’d left for Bella, Aunt Cassi was actually a fae, though fathered by a Black. As was tradition the Blacks had given up all claim on the child to be raised by her fae relatives. However, once she’d reached her majority, Cassiopeia had apparently gotten fascinated enough with human society and art to enter the wizarding world full time. Even shifting her features to play the part in public. Since welcoming the fae was a sign of hospitality and nobleness, the Blacks had little choice but to open their doors to her.

It’d apparently made her something of an eccentric amoungst the other half of Cassiopeia’s family, but as established before, the woman gave not a single fuck.

Curiously though, part of the possessions the woman had willed to Bellatrix had included a number of parcels and letters. Journals and correspondence or the like. That alone, wasn’t particularly abnormal. Plenty of ladies had things they wanted to say to those that succeeded them. However, many of these objects were apparently magically sealed into an immovable safe at Black Manor. One of the only actually openable letters had merely given a cryptic set of instructions. The safe, it said, should only be opened by an orphaned fae close to Bellatrix. One that needed to learn about her heritage and magic. That everything would be explained when Bella met her, but to wait patiently until then.

In hindsight, both women had started to wonder if Cassiopeia had a touch of the sight. Not that Hermione thought divination was real, but well, fae magic seemed to change things up a bit. She was willing to entertain the possibility of prophecy. In limited capacity. At least if it didn’t involve that hack Trelawney.

Plus, the Dark Lord was absolutely crazy about divination and prophecy. When Bellatrix had explained that her fae seer aunt had potentially left a treasure trove of information about fae blood magic to Hermione, he’d been ecstatic. Well, ecstatic for a Dark Lord unable to feel positive emotions. Mostly he just hissed in amusement and sent them on their way. Accessing a trove of information on the ever elusive creatures was worth the minor risk of letting Bella and Hermione leave the Manor for a little while. He was after all, practically a hoarder of rare objects, tomes and magical knowledge.

So that’s where Bella and Hermione now found themselves. Ensconced within the venerable, ancient and opulently appointed library at the ancestral seat of the Blacks. Tucked in a darkened room at the very back of the maze of bookshelves was a single silver safe, recessed in the wall.

“Well, go ahead pet, I’m preeeeetty sure it’s safe. It has to be meant for you to open after all. I’ve never been particularly close with any other orphaned fae.” The dark witch said, waving Hermione forward.

The fae shot Bellatrix a firm yet annoyed hoot. This was a Black Library after all. For a family famous for vicious dark items meant to curse any who tried to improperly access them. She didn’t really have any other ideas to add however, beyond a couple quick diagnostic spells, so she leant forward and took hold of the handle.

She felt a prick on her finger as a needle she didn’t see took a drop of her blood. Both witches held their breath until a firm clunk denoted the unlocking of the safe.

With a firm tug, the fae pulled the safe open. Though, she winced at the screech the rusty hinges let out as they were moved for the first time in decades. Hermione boggled at the contents inside. It’s not like she was really expecting opulent sets of jewels or anything, but… Well no, if she’s honest, she was totally expecting at least something fabulously wealthy and jewel encrusted. What was actually their however, was...quite different.

The safe ended up having three shelves. The top shelf had a bright red little label on it saying “Bella’s sweet little birdy: Read me first!” with a little doodle of a heart on it. Inside was a gaudy black bound volume with pink filigree titled “Cassiopeia Black’s Guide to Fae Ritual Blood Magic for Fun and Profit!” The middle had a similar label reading “Birdy: read me next!” Inside that shelf was another thick tome titled “101 Useful Blood Rituals for Protection and Smiting Your Enemies! By, Cassiopeia Black.” The final shelf had one label saying “Bella: read me immediately, you sly dog!” and appeared to be a simple leather journal.

Hermione shared an amused glance with her soulmate before they each scooped the contents of their respective shelves out. Humming happily, both women took their respective reading material out to the parlour and sat down to read on the sofa.

And oh how enlightening that was.

The first thing that really drew the attention of the two women was Aunt Cassi’s guide to blood magic. Bellatrix had, of course, extensively studied the subject. The Black’s had vast libraries on ritual magic and blood magic in particular. Not to mention she’d been working alongside Voldemort for years. Still, even Bella found that the tome was a particular thoughtful and nuanced interpretation of the subject. One that shed new light on all the various opportunities the powerful subject provided.

* * *

**Cassiopeia Black’s Guide to Fae Ritual Blood Magic for Fun and Profit!**

**Foreword:**

Hi my sweet girls! I’m so very, very glad you two managed to finally find each other. I swear, scrying through the future could be so incredibly frustrating with you two. Bella dearest, I appreciate you were real mad about Dumbles dearest being a dick, but the death eaters?! Really? Didn’t I raise you better than that? Cut that bollocks out right now, or I will be very very cross young lady!

Birdy dearest, I’m sorry, but I was never quite able to get your name in all this. So, yeah, I’ll be calling you Birdy in my head. Sorry about that dear, but the winding paths of the future are confusing and vague at times. I haven’t even been able to scry my own future, though I know it cuts off soon. Yes, yes, I know that’s why you hate divination so much. Your right, Humans are shit at it and honestly shouldn’t even bother. However, fae and a bunch of other types of creatures have at least passable skills. Sometimes. If the webs of fate are kind. Despite what the human books say. Ain’t that a theme for the world if there ever was one. I swear I’ll never understand how a race that made Beethoven, Jazz and Rock and Roll has ever been this dumb. Sometimes I wonder how humans even manage to wipe their damn asses with their heads so far up their...

I’m getting off track, aren’t I my lovelies.

Anywho, this here book is the culmination of basically everything I’ve learned about blood magic. A subject I _highly_ recommend you make yourself quite proficient on. Right quick. I haven’t really seen much of the future beyond this point, but I’ve made a point of highlighting some ideas I think will be useful. Once you’ve read this and get a good foundation of how everything works I suggest you go on to the next book and browse some of my suggestions. There’s some rituals in there that should be pretty useful to your current situation.

Toodles, cheers, and mazel tov on finally getting together you two! Good luck on unfucking the pooch on the situation you’ve found yourselves in!

You’ll fucking need it.

Yours truly,

Cassiopeia Black.

* * *

Hermione had to grin as seeing that foreword seemed to return that soft nostalgic look to her soulmates face. She had to say, Cassiopeia Black had the sort of sarcastic smart ass sense of humour she so dearly loved in Bellatrix. Plus, she was smart. Like crazy fucking smart.

The book itself was mostly laying out the entire theoretical basis for how and why ritual magic worked. With the assumption that knowing _how_ and _why_ it worked would let them modify or make their own rituals. Rather than the more traditional education that Bella and most other Dark Magic practitioners received. You know, where they ended up just memorizing hundreds of previously successful rituals and finding the closest one to what you needed so you could modify it for the situation at hand.

Which, apparently, was a _terrible_ idea.

Mostly cause wizards fucking _suck_ at math. Cassiopeia’s words, not hers.

You see, what really was a ritual? What was it’s definition? You tended to sacrifice something, but what did that _do?_ How did you choose the sacrifice? How much did you need? The answers of course, were complicated and usually took weeks or months to work out. Assuming the ritual master didn’t make some mistake in all the tedious, long arithmancy.

In simple terms, a ritual involves sacrificing one or more magical objects to the elemental force of magic itself. People debate all day long about the existence of an actual god of magic. Numerous names have been used throughout history. Be it Hecate, Circe, or something even older. At the end of the day though, it all revolved around a bargain. The ritualist gave something up to receive some effect from the god of magic, the ether, or the fucking easter bunny for all it made a difference.

Only, magic would not be cheated. Once you struck the bargain it was going to claim it’s bloody due. Regardless of whether the sacrifice was worthy or not. Hence why so many novice, cheap, or drunk ritual masters got exactly what they wanted...while turning themselves into a fine red paste their families would later scrape off the walls of the ritual chamber.

See, the problem was, not all sacrifices are made equal, nor are they interchangeable. For desired effects, certain properties had to be fulfilled. For example, lets say a ritualist wanted to have their fields grow with great abundance. A simple enough basic ritual. Regardless, the sacrifice provided had to provide strong properties of earth elemental power to ground the effect and water to disperse the power through the fields. However, that alone wasn’t enough. The ritual sacrifice had to evoke kindness to heal the plants instead of blight them, evoke hope for the future to sustain the effect over weeks and months, and more than a dozen other emotional requirements. The end result was a cocktail of herbs prepared in a complicated and carefully balanced array that carefully optimized these constraints.

Most of the field of arithmancy was actually developed to help discover required types of sacrifice, estimate the necessary amounts and predict the most useful reagents to fulfill those requirements. Since, of course, it was far, far more complicated than a cup of sugar to each part of flour.

No, no, no, magic was weird and stupid and driven by many things other than actual matter. There were literally hundreds of variables that all interacted with each other. The overall strength of the effect would be affected by things like the emotional symbolism of the sacrifice, the time of day, the phase of the moon or tides, what phase in the menstrual cycle the caster was in, the emotional willpower of the caster, willingness to suffer pain and on and on and on. Not to mention any single sacrificial substance would usually have dozens of unique magical properties. All of which would have to match the requirements of the ritual for the effect desired, or the caster would likely be consumed instead.

Hermione was oddly struck as she was reading Cassiopeia’s full explanation by how familiar this all seemed. The pages and pages of equations the woman would list out for each ritual all seemed very...matrixy. Hermione had been making a point to keep up her muggle education, which wasn’t too difficult considering all the grades she’d skipped before going to Hogwarts. Just last year she’d finished a couple of first year University math courses through a correspondence program over the summer. She couldn’t be sure, since working with matrices this size by hand would be tedious, and frighteningly easy to fuck up and kill yourself with, but she was reasonably certain if she plugged them into a computer she could get them solved in a jiffy.

Of course, wizards being bad at math, most dark mages eventually gave up trying to even calculate these things. After all, there were far easier shortcuts, which is why the field hadn’t been entirely abandoned.

* * *

**Cassiopeia Black’s Guide to Fae Ritual Blood Magic for Fun and Profit!**

**Chapter 3: The Magical Properties of Sacrifices: Fae Blood versus Murder.**

Now, my dears, comes the important bit. Given all the shenanigans I’ve already written about with magic being a fickle and capricious bitch about what it wants - how in the hell do you actually complete a ritual?

The answer of course, is murder.

No, no, not actually. Yes, in _theory_ you can create an incredibly precise set of sacrifices and conditions to complete a ritual with a high degree of precision. Well, also in practice too. Potions are actually a form of ritual, if you really think about it. Though, they have been designed in such a way to be much safer than directly invoking the spirits of magic. There are also a variety of extremely simple minor rituals with such small requirements that virtually any sacrifice will do...

But I’m getting sidetracked.

Given, as I say, that finding the right set of conditions to make a ritual successful is largely impossible (though I have it on good authority, that you, little birdy, will find a way, and soon) how do all the pompous, noble, dark gits do it?

As I said, murder.

See, I was actually oversimplifying a bit when arguing that one type of sacrifice could not meet all requirements of a ritual. It’s just most are incredibly inefficient at it. A sacrifice of jasmine flowers for example, might provide good headway towards the requirement for the power of earth. However, it would make barely a thousandth of a percent of that headway towards the requirement for the property of fire.

There are two exceptions to this. Two reagents that while they have their own unique properties can efficiently substitute for any other property. Willingly given fae blood and murder.

Of course, fae are the beings closest to the land. Essentially made of magic and in tune with gaia. My grandmother always told me stories of how the fae were sprites that made bargains with Lady Magic when the world was young, becoming her protectors and will made flesh. When a fae involves themselves, willingly, in a ritual, it is treated as a branch of magic itself asking for a boon from it’s own trunk.

And Lady Magic is all too willing to give us a discount when it’s important. _Don’t_ abuse her generosity. She be but a vengeful and fickle goddess. See appendix A.2 for an overview of the seriously gruesome shit what happens to those who piss her off and what they did wrong. I don’t expect it’ll be a problem with you, our little goody two shoes lioness.

Murder on the other hand, is a far more simple reagent. It’s simply the most powerful symbolic act a witch or wizard can perform. The ultimate tribute of their will and desire for a trade with Lady Magic. While not as eagerly accepted as fae blood, Lady Magic will accept murder in place of most any other sacrificial property.

So, you may ask, why can stupid wizards still do ritual magic? Why has it been banned so universally by the ministry?

Because the solution to any ritual, the safest course of action if you don’t want to get yourself killed is: throw more corpses on the pile.

And most wizards are greedy, rich, risk averse little piggies.

...That also suck at math.

* * *

Hermione was fascinated. The subject seemed so incredibly versatile and powerful...if one had access to fae blood to make it ethical at least. Even just leafing through the second book Cassiopeia left was enough to convince herself of how much she needed to learn the field. Dozens of meticulously researched and calculated rituals were laid out. Several of which were highlighted or starred with little comments where the woman had thought something would be particularly relevant to Bella and Hermione. Something she found both quite endearing, and maybe a bit worrying.

After all, the ritual to create a plague that wipes out your enemy, their family back three generations, and their allies was circled in big bold swoops of Cassiopeia’s pen.

She filed that one under “last resort.”

Still, there were a couple ideas that were incredibly important and useful. Most specifically there was an entire section on how bloody amazing Fae blood wards were. Apparently, it was roughly equivalent to the fae “claiming” a particular plot of land to be under their protection. With proper control runes and careful management, one could create a ward system that was literally impenetrable. No harmful magic could pass through, and nobody but a pre-approved list of people and creatures could enter.

Couple that with the highlighted “purging of dark magical influences one’s soul” ritual and Hermione was pretty sure she had herself an escape plan. Especially since neither ritual was particularly long. Hell they could get the warding done in a matter of hours and then purge out Bella’s dark mark after they were all safe and sound within the bubble. Maybe send house elves out for food or something.

That was around the moment Bella took a sharp intake of breath from her position just having finished reading Cassiopeia’s journal. Hermione gave her a concerned glance and let out a curious hoot.

“Read this pet. I’m thinking we know what all that blood Dumbledore stole was used for.” The dark witch said, an ominously serious look on her face. Hermione frowned as she pulled it over to her for a quick read. Trying to pointedly ignore the way Bella’s hand was shaking in a distinctly un Bella-like way.

* * *

**Dear Cunting Diary,**

What a swell Circe bedamned morning. Not only do I have the fucking mother of all hangovers, but I also have the joy to know I’m a fucking screw up as well. One rule. One fucking rule. Don’t tell the fucking humans about how fae magic works. That’s all we had.

Well, maybe two. Letting people know I’m fae is stupid dangerous after all. What with the wizards so greedy for favors and offerings of blood and crap. They don’t even know a quarter of what it’s good for, and are half guessing on the rest, but the greedy cunts just won’t stop.

But goddamn if stupid drunk Cassi is never one for rules.

I think I royally fucked up last night at the leaky. I was deep in my cups last night. I needed to...get away, just for a bit. Circe knows I love my family...but does Druella really have to be such a stuck up bitch? I saw bruises, fresh, deep dark fucking bruises all up and down Bella, Andy, even little Cissa yesterday. They hadn’t even been fed all day, punishment for “being mouthy” or some shite.

If that wasn’t enough, the cunt told me it was “none of my affair.” After all they “weren’t my real family.”

Fuck!

I hate that bitch. So fucking much. Honestly, why am I even still trying to make a go of it here in the human world. They don’t want us. Nobody does. If it wasn’t for the girls I’d probably just leave and go home. Tell all the blighters to sod off already.

So, right, I’m getting off the point. I’m at the leaky, having a couple pints with some friends from back home, complaining about how fucking shitty the stupid humans are. When, quel surpise, who should walk up to us, but another fucking dirty human. In a giant fluffy fashion disaster of a purple robe. I’m all for making a statement, but the old codger, absolutely could _not_ pull it off.

Anyway the old codger comes up to me, he says, he says “What’s the occasion for all you fine ladies to be out on the town tonight?” As if he’s just trying to chat us up and get in our knickers. Which, ew. Not for all the galleons in Gringotts.

But, stupid drunk Cassi starts blabbing all about stupid humans this, and stupid humans that. My head got all fuzzy and shit, like if I didn’t know any better I’dda swore I got hit with a confundus. Which would have been patently impossible, unless the old codger knew wandless magic. I doubt it, stupid humans are so caught up in their silly sticks they’ve never been able to see the forest for the trees.

Anyway, he says to me, he says, he keeps talking. Asking about if we’re not humans, what are we?

And I fucking answer, like a bloody skippy cub. Tellin him all about the fae, in way more detail than I fucking shoulda. And see, he gets all real intense-like, and just kept asking more and more. Christ, you’da think he’d heard enough about fae blood wards in the first half an hour, but there were always more and more fuckin questions about the damn things.

I mean, sure, they’re pretty useful, but who cares that goddamn much? The bloody ministry bloody outlawed them a few years back to allow the aurors to conduct their “lawful business.” Like they ain’t takin bribes and knocking down doors and shite. It’s not like anybody uses wards like that anymore. Sure, they’re pretty easy to setup. Don’t even need a willing fae or nothing, just some blood and a properly balanced ritual. Still, I doubt some stupid human (aside from of course, my dear little girls) would be able to figure any of it out. They all gave up on that sort of ritual work years ago.

Plus, none of us’ll give a smarmy cunt like that enough blood to work with. Still, fucking christ, even if he can’t use any of that, I shouldn’ta spilt the beans. Fuckin hell, I need to get rid of this bloody hangover and bloody sober up.

Bloody humans.

* * *

“Fucking asshole!” Hermione screached as she finished reading the journal entry. “I think you’re right Bella. This sounds exactly like Dumblejackhole. I guess he was probably using my blood to improve the wards around the Order safe houses? “ The fae huffed out grumpily.

Only, something was pinging around in her head about that. Something that didn’t add up.

“That was my conclusion yes. There’s...there’s more though.” The dark witch whispered, her voice cracking. Hermione’s senses went on full alert and she focused in on her soulmate.

“That uh, that entry was written about two months before she...passed. I’ve always had my suspicions but...Cassiopeia was never exactly the most stable person. We never had any real solid proof.” The dark witch replied, her eyes shining.

“Proof? Proof of what?” Hermione asked.

“The next week she, uh...she was found dead in a jail cell. The aurors had picked her up for a drunken disorderly while she and a couple friends were coming home from a play. The lead auror, one Frank Longbottom, apparently got up to go to the bathroom for about 10 minutes. By the time he got back, she had hung herself. With a note that said she just didn’t have anything worth living anymore. We complained and thought it was suspicious but…” Bella explained, trailing off forlornly.

Sucking in a deep, shocked breath Hermione gave Bella a fierce hug before flipping to the last entry of the journal.

And promptly cursed up a bluestreak.

* * *

**Dear fucking diary!**

Life is fucking amazing! I seem to have finally fixed myself up. A month and a half sober. Not a drop. I’ve been able to spend so much time with the girls as well. Not to mention I’ve finally been able to convince Druella that I’ve turned over a new leaf.

I mean, I don’t think she entirely believes me when I say I’m going to be a proper pureblood lady for once, but that doesn’t really matter. What matters is she’s finally had enough with putting on airs to keep up appearances. She’s willing to let me have the girls for the summer, maybe longer, depending on how it goes. They’d still have to go to every formal function as her daughters of course, but she doesn’t want to deal with raising them anymore.

Fucking bitch. They’re positively delightful. Still, if it means at least mostly adopting those lovely girls, and getting them away from the witch, I’ll take it.

Me and some of my friends are going to go out to see Dances with Werewolves tomorrow evening to celebrate. Oooh I’m so excited. Life is finally looking up!

I am _not_ going to drink though. There is nothing in this world that will convince me to cock this up now. The opportunity is too important.

Good fucking night!

* * *

Hermione promptly buried her nose in Bella’s shoulders and crushed the dark witch into a hug. She kept muttering heartfelt but feeble apologies and threats to kill the old goat. Finally, despite holding herself so firmly together for so long, Hermione felt Bella’s shoulders start to shudder and quake. Hot tears dripped down the older woman’s chin into Hermione’s hair. Strong arms wrapped down to cling onto the fae.

They just sat like that, holding each other together for over an hour. Nothing quite seemed to matter for either witch beyond living in that moment. Lost in thought and sadness Hermione had ample time to think. To niggle at the problems presented. To figure out exactly what it was she was missing.

Then it hit her.

Bloody blood wards. Harry. The supposed ultimate form of protection forged from his mother’s sacrifice. You know, the one nobody aside from Dumbeldore seemed to understand or know how it worked. That they were all supposed to just trust him on. That absolutely _necessitated_ Harry live with his abusive blood relatives.

Merlin, they were probably running with her blood.

Which likely meant that regardless of how Dumbledore tried to tweak them, she could probably just walk right on through them.

“Bella, if I were to set up some blood wards, like aunt Cassiopeia seemed to nudge us towards, do you think the Dark Lord could get through them?” The fae eventually asked, her voice thick from crying. Bellatrix blinked a couple times thoughtfully. With intent, skillful eyes she read through Cassiopeia’s description of them, nodding along as she went.

“Well, it’s never a good idea to underestimate the Dark Lord but...no, barring any clever work around they should hold. In theory they should just negate any magical force used against them. As long as he couldn’t get somebody to let him in from the inside it should be fine.” The dark witch eventually responded.

Hermione grinned.

“Want to strike a resounding blow against Dumbledore and take a key pawn off the board with me?” Hermione asked, eyes lit up with the excitement of a new idea. Well, and with the thought of even a start at revenge.

And saving her best friend from starvation and beatings at the hands of his uncle.

“Fuck yeah.” Bellatrix replied.


	10. In Which the Goblins, do not, In Fact, Magically Solve Every Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Bella take a trip to the bank!
> 
> It does not go as well as one would hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haaaaai y'all. So I've been super busy and stressed running studies at work and was at a bit of a low point for writing for a bit there. I think I'm getting my groove back though, and after this chapter I'm planning on doing a mini-nanoy thing. Mainly I have another plot bunny I want to get a good start on, that hopefully you'll start seeing updates for soon. 
> 
> but in the meantime Ah shucks, Dumbles is Dumbles and He's literally the worst.

* * *

Of course, performing the ‘heist’ of the century wasn’t exactly something to run into with half-cocked Gryffindor bravery. Therefore, while Hermione had realized she was the key to skating through the wards on Harry’s property, actually wrestling him from the Order’s control wouldn’t just _happen._ No, Bella and her had to make sure they had an actual plan beforehand. You know, with a safe place to escape to and an end goal in mind. One the Dark Lord, Albus Dumbledick, even fucking Melin himself couldn’t fucking get into. After all, getting themselves killed was the exact _opposite_ of their goal. 

Fucking hell, Hermione found it so incredibly _satisfying_ that she had a Slytherin to plan her dangerous hijinks with this time. No more shrugged off concerns, no more bullshite machismo getting in the way of thoughtful planning and debate. No, with Bella and Hermione putting their heads together all there was was careful tactical deliberation of every eventuality. With the acknowledgement that they’d probably have to improvise at least part of it. No plan fully survived first contact with the enemy after all. 

...Plus Bella was hot as all fucking hell when she was in her murder strut, ruthless tactician mode. 

So, Bella, Narcissa and Hermione convened what was affectionately dubbed the war council for operation: The Wizarding World can go Fuck Itself. They’d spent days going through the ritual magic texts in Black Manor and those left by Aunt Cassiopeia. Trying to figure out ways to free Bella from the dark mark, which, after all, was essentially a painful brand that let Voldie track her down like a dog. Plus there were fine details like Hermione training her morphing enough to be able to hold a mostly human conversation with Harry, how to get him a portkey and convince him to use it, how to convince Draco to come along with them, how to get food and supplies through impenetrable wards and many more. 

Still, the biggest and most important task was to find a safe house. While both Bella and Hermione were reasonably certain fae blood wards would be all but impregnable once erected, every security system had its weakness. Thus, hiding out at a known property, especially one connected to the floo network seemed incredibly foolhardy. Even if the Death Eaters or the Order couldn’t muscle their way through the wards at Black Manor, having a ring of Death Eaters sieging the place and waiting to pounce on the smallest mistake or overlooked flaw was terrifying and dangerous. So, homebase needed to be where nobody would reasonably expect. 

Which meant a trip to Gringotts was in order. 

...Wasn’t it grand how absolutely few fucks the goblins gave about wizarding law and conventions? Not only did they have a private Floo for wealthy customers, but they also had a standing confidentiality policy and non-aggression pact with both sides of the war. After all, the gold must flow, and obscenely wealthy purebloods expected only the best, even if they were technically criminals. 

It was with this knowledge that Bella and Hermione had popped into the private Floo room and requested an immediate meeting with Bella’s account manager. With little time wasted on pleasantries Bellatrix had shot off into a glossed over account of Hermione’s fae status and need for an obscure dwelling. With a sharp grin the woman had made several pointed comments about being concerned about ‘thieves’ trying to steal Hermione’s inheritances and the need for an accurate accounting. The vicious grin the goblin returned to her was telling. 

Goblins had a particular dislike for thieves after all. 

“Hrm yes, I see the concern Mrs Lestrange. Very well, a simple blood test should help ensure we have an accurate idea of Ms Granger’s potential inheritance.” Hummed Gragnok, the Black family account manager before the short creature started rummaging around in his desk. 

Within short order he’d pulled out a thick grey rune inscribed stone slate about the size of a couple pieces of paper that practically radiated magic. It was quickly followed by a small black stone bowl, two potions and a sharp looking black ritual athame. Obsidian edged if Hermione had to guess, which she’d come to learn was a favorite for blood and other ritual magic since the mineral was essentially inert in magical reactions. A property that made it much easier to precisely control the contents of the ritual sacrifice and ensure Lady Magic didn’t end up having to take a bite out of the caster in payment. Hermione had, of course, been practicing extensively with her fae talents, and quickly flickered her mage sight on. She was curious to see ritual blood magic in action. 

...and promptly shut it off with a shiver. 

What? You try staring into a deep dark mist of swirling blood. All of which was curling in wisps and spirals of runes she only _barely_ recognized that a master’s level ancient runes book she’d glanced through at Malfoy manor. That wasn’t even it all though, the misty runes...undulated, as if almost alive. Seeming to reach out and almost...caress her. Eager, like a hungry dog seeing a steak for the first time. She didn’t get a sense of maliciousness per se...but there was definite danger there if misused. As if the magic was merely connecting with an impossible being on the other side of some barrier, eager to break through and devour all it could.

She was oddly reminded of reading Lovecraft now that she thought about it. 

“If you are quite satisfied with your impromptu inspection of sacred goblin ritual instruments, may I suggest we move forward with the inheritance test Ms Granger?” Gragnok huffed out, bringing Hermione out of her thoughts. The fae felt the back of her neck heat up with embarrassment, but held back the urge to apologize. Bellatrix had thoroughly briefed her on goblin customs. Apologizing was seen as a weak, patronizing exercise. After all, apologies meant nothing to the warrior race. What mattered was correcting faults and moving forward properly. 

“I will refrain from letting my curiosity get the better of me in the future. Let us move forward with the ritual.” Hermione said seriously, pleased at the thoughtful look the goblin returned to her. Unless she was completely misreading him (which was unfortunately possible, goblin facial expressions had subtly different emotional meanings than she was used to) there seemed to a guarded seed of respect in his posture. 

“Excellent. First off, we must prime the ritual to your blood.” Gragnok explained, uncorking a thick pearly white potion. With sure movements he dumped the concoction in the stone bowl and started chanting over it. A noticeable pressure settled in the air as magical power crackled around them. As the goblin’s chant came to a close the white potion started bubbling and fizzing. Hermione found her hair standing on end and had the strangest sensation of being watched intently. As if sensing something moving just beyond her sight. Something old and...hungry.

Bellatrix merely gave her a crooked grin though, so it seemed like this was a pretty normal feeling for a blood ritual. 

“Now, you will slash your palm open and let blood flow freely into the potion. The magic will stop the flow and heal the wound once enough has been collected.” Gragnok ordered, pushing the ritual bowl half full of bubbling milky white fluid over to rest on the desk in front of Hermione. 

It took a second and a deep breath to prepare and center herself, but with a sharp movement blade met flesh. Sharp pain stabbed her hand and she bit her cheek to hold back a wince. Ability to withstand pain was a key part of goblin culture after all. With firm control and determination she guided the welling flow of hot blood into the potion. Even managing to avoid jumping when a thunderous electrical crack jolted through the room as the ritual started in earnest. 

...She had less success holding back the brokenly wanton moan that pushed its way out of her throat though. 

Bellatrix was smirking at her, eyes wide and dilated. The brat probably knew this exact thing was going to happen and had just been waiting to tease her about it later. She’d read a little bit about the phenomena, but of course dry textbook descriptions really couldn’t do the majesty of magic justice. Particularly ritual magic. In that moment Hermione had taken primary control of the ritual, turning the gaze of whatever hungry beast wizards called Lady Magic on herself in full. The barest tendril of her power snaked its way through Hermione’s magical core and filled her body. It felt like riotous lightning burning it’s way through every nerve ending she had. Only, instead of pain it was just a mass of heat and adrenaline that made her feel on top of the world. 

 

Alright, it was also sent a very particular pressure sizzling through the pit of her belly, and she’d be needing new panties after this. Fucking brat of a soulmate left out the important bits. 

Lost in her thoughts she completely missed the moment when the flow of blood from her palm slowed and the slash turned back to creamy skin. Luckily, she had older, more experienced ritual masters to help her. A grounding hand came down on her shoulder making her start and turn to face her soulmate. 

“Pet, I know you're probably feeling pretty swell right now, but you need to focus. Gragnok asked you to pour the mixture onto the stone slate. Focus.” Bellatrix said, voice rough and deep. 

Which, right, focus. That was a thing Hermione could do. Even if her hands did tremble the entire way, she was able to gingerly heft the now deep red potion and pour it over the slab of stone Gragnok had prepared. A harsh shudder went through her as the magic boomed out once more. Rather than spill off the flat surface the bloody mixture seemed to pool on the top. Like oil on water. She looked to the goblin with a raised eyebrow. It turned into a bit of a glare at the far too amused expression on his face.

“The rest of the ritual is fairly simple, merely invoke mother magic’s guidance by reading this chant.” The goblin explained, sliding a small card in front of Hermione. The fae swiped it up and stared at it intently. Making sure to read it through multiple times, memorizing it backwards and forwards. It wasn’t really long or complex, but it gave Hermione the oddest headache reading it. Like what she was reading, seeing and understanding were all very different things. 

Plus, when she opened her mouth to start the incantation she realized she was speaking entirely in an incredibly early form of latin, though she was hearing the oddest echo in english.

Magic was rad.

“Circe! Great Mother of Magic! I beseecheth thee! Your child is frightened, unsure and alone. I humbly request guidance to those of family and blood! I beg thee this boon!” Hermione shouted, voice reverberating through the small office. 

The magic filling Hermione pulsed and squirmed. Tendrils of it slid throughout her body, as if searching for something with enthusiasm and curiosity. The warmth and lightning crackling in her blood slowly turned syrupy and languid as the potion seemed to absorb into the strange slab of stone. It’s grey surface slowly turned into a dark red, almost black. By the time it finished, an almost palpable sense of fondness had filled the air. Like whatever impossible, unknowable being had been gracing the proceedings with the smallest tendril of itself was pleased by the result. 

From the wide eyed smile on Bellatrix’s face, it was far from alone. 

Not wasting a moment Gragnok had scooped up the second potion on his desk, uncorked it and upended the contents over the tablet. Only, as Hermione watched the shimmering black contents spread out over the stone surface, she realized it was actually just ink. Ink which was in the process of rapidly forming itself into a web of lines, letters and numbers. It took about a minute for the ink to settle, after which Gragnok dragged out a thick slice of parchment and carefully pressed it down onto the surface. His hands gently slid over the surface to make sure everything was smooth. 

Then about another minute later the goblin gently pulled the parchment off revealing a perfect impression of an extensive family tree, along with the slab of stone, now back to its original grey colour. Without so much as a by your leave the diminutive goblin had started perusing Hermione’s family tree and humming along with interest. 

“Well?” Hermione eventually prompted, trying to keep the hint of annoyance out of her tone. She was well and thoroughly exhausted by conducting her first real ritual and kindof just wanted to go home and curl up beside Bellatrix. 

“Hmm?” The goblin replied distractedly before glancing up and seeing Hermione’s exhausted glare. With a wrinkle of his nose he huffed before continuing. 

“Well, the ritual went perfectly of course. The results are quite fascinating, I assure you. Ms Granger, or should I say Ms Goldfeather is part of a fascinating lineage of fae. One of the most prominent families that ventured here from the Seeli court. The fae, of course, didn’t really have a firm social hierarchy, but they were well thought off and considered by many to be trusted advisors. Many of the families that were wiped out in the last war even went so far as to will their earthly possessions to the Goldfeather’s for safekeeping.” Gragnok explained, before levelling Hermione with a pointed look. 

“I would be _very_ curious to know where exactly the eldest heir to such a prominent family has been kept hidden all these years.” He continued. Hermione squirmed a bit in her seat, before firming her jaw and staring him down. 

“A muggle family after Dumbledore cursed me to hide me away. Even from myself.” The witch ground out. 

“Of course he did.” Gragnok spat after his eyes widened briefly. A disgusted look came over his face, but he seemed content to merely let the silence hang. Eventually it was Bella who decided to prompt the conversation forward. 

“I think I actually remember the Goldfeathers. We didn’t really interact much, but I saw them at a few revels back in the day. Filthy rich buggers from what I recall. Had all the rich bastards falling over themselves to get a night with them. You wouldn’t imagine the extravagant gifts they gave em to convince your family to give them the time of day. Never really seemed to work either. If they were inheriting the estates of the other families as well it sounds like you’re absolutely loaded pet.” Bellatrix joked, smiling widely and wiggling her eyebrows. 

Hermione had to blush a bit at the thought. The thought of having so much money was...well pleasant in an indulgent sort of way. She was a little skeeved out by how exactly it sounds like they received so much of it. It was...almost presumptive in a way. That apparently the pureblood families had been trying to buy their way into her family's affections for years was...unpleasant. 

That and the thought of Bella and her family attending the same sorts of...indulgent parties was somewhat awkward to say the least. She’d heard of what went on at revels after the seasonal rituals and while she was curious about attending herself, that didn’t dissuade from the current situation. Sure the wizarding world was to some degree incestuous, but she’d really rather not contemplate the non zero probability of her parents and soulmate getting it on a few decades back. Or the even more likely possibility of them at least having public sex beside each other. 

“Oh no, I assure you, the Goldfeather estate is quite penniless. Ms Goldfeather’s only real financial assets, liquid or otherwise are those she stands to inherit from her muggle guardians.” The goblin huffed amusedly, luckily pulling Hermione out of her contemplative tailspin. 

“What?!” Bellatrix cried, outraged. “I happen to know they owned over a half dozen manors at least! There is no conceivable way they could have mismanaged their estates so badly. Explain. Now.” Bellatrix growled from beside Hermione, glaring the goblin down. Gragnok’s met her gaze undaunted. Slowly his lips turned up in a smirk, just mean enough to give Hermione a truly sick feeling of dread. 

“Tell me, valued customer and… _witch_.” The goblin hissed, voice full of scorn and derision. Hermione could practically feel Bella bristling beside her, and shifted her arm over to squeeze a restraining hand down on her thigh. Luckily, besides a growl, the witch seemed to be willing to withstand the insulting tone till he’d at least finished speaking. 

“What _exactly_ do you think happens to a race of magical creatures after they have been conquered and colonized by wizarding folk. One that wasn’t able to fight them to a standstill like the goblins? Do you have any idea?” Gragnok continued, his eyes glinting dangerously. The challenge was clear and the room felt like it was balanced on a knife’s edge. 

Hermione didn’t like it. 

“Peace, friend Gragnok. Speak plainly but fairly. What happened to the fortune.” Hermione said, forcing herself to keep her head held high and tone level. The goblin shifted his stare from Bellatrix to the fae to consider her for long moments. Eventually a wry grin that didn’t reach his eyes formed on his face and he let out a humourless chuckle. 

“Indeed. The answer, valued customers, is quite simple. In the grand tradition of the British Empire, they simply declared the assets theirs. After the war the ministry ruled that since all the prominent fae families were apparently violent supporters of the dark side, all their assets could be seized as restitution.” He explained, shaking his head. 

“Bullshit! The fae never officially joined the death eaters. Hell, I don’t even remember them offering funds or safe houses.” Bellatrix shot back. 

“And who exactly was able to argue that point Ms Black? All the fae were dead, had fled the country, or, apparently been kidnapped like Ms Goldfeather here. The trials were held in absentia with no defense provided in emergency closed court sessions of the wizengamot. The only record of which we have is the date and result. The Dark wizards on the council were busy using what political capital they still had to buy their way to pardoned sentences via the imperius defence.” The goblin returned, his face flushed agrily. Bellatrix seemed to just crumple in on herself, like a puppet with its strings cut at that. 

“Y-you can’t agree with their decision?! Why did Gringott’s just let them waltz away with all that money?” The dark witch huffed, determinedly not quite letting the point go. 

“Of course not!! Goblin law clearly states that all the property and money should have gone to Ms Goldfeather. However, the fae were never particularly stringent about financial security. What exactly did you think was going to happen when troops of dozens of aurors and hitwizards show up to Gringotts with an order to empty their low security, easily accessible vaults? Do you think the Goblin nation has an army or three to spare guarding dozens of empty properties for dead customers?” Gragnok said with a growl at the dark witch. 

That was right about the time the slowly building simmer rage inside of Hermione popped it’s lid. 

“Alright, lets stop this bloody pissing contest. So the Wizengamot seized my assets, what the _fuck_ did they do with them and how do I get them back.” The fae screeched. She felt telltale buzzing sensations around her fingers and head as she lost control on her morphing. It was with great difficulty that she kept breathing and refused to claw her new inch long talons into the goblin’s desk. She also supposed her eyes had flashed to that eerily glowing yellow shade they did when she got particularly cross. Bugger.

Still, the cautious respect and caution Gragnok showed her as he brought his temper back under control was quite satisfying. 

“In a word, you don’t. There was a parcel or two of mostly empty land dangerously deep within the forbidden forest that we can give you a portkey too. The ministry didn’t value them enough to seize and redevelop given the expense. Aside from that though? We would glady give you the deed to evict their current tenants, but how would you enforce it? Do you have an army that could stand up to the force of aurors that would no doubt be called if you tried to force wizarding families in good bloody standing out of their homes. It’s gone.” The goblin spat. 

“Names. Which craven cowards stole from her? Who do I need to kill?” Bellatrix growled back, a murderous look on her face. 

Gragnok let out a croaking cackle, clearly amused by the viciousness. 

“I appreciate the sentiment Ms Black, but the answer would probably be most of the Wizengamot. As so many of the supposed victims of the fae were muggleborns, a motion was passed to allow the Supreme Mugwump Dumbledore to execute the distribution of assets to those affected. After all he was the _presumed_ expert on muggleborn affairs.” Gragnok drawled, ears twitching in what Hermione assumed was the goblin equivalent of an eye roll. 

“Of bloody course. Everything all comes back to the old goat. What did he end up doing with it?” Bellatrix said with a groan.

“We’d need to do a full audit to track where exactly the assets went after that point. However, I do know that several light families mysteriously came into property shortly afterwards. The Weasleys, the Longbottoms, the Moody’s, the Mckinnon’s and others most notably. The light bloc of the Wizengamot also saw numerous recruits from the more easily...financially motivated members of the neutral bloc.” Gragnok explained, a deep disgusted frown on his face. A sentiment Hermione felt herself echoing quite clearly before her brain caught up. 

“Wait, I’m supposed to own the Burrow?” Hermione said, letting out a confused hoot.

“Indeed. If I recall correctly, the property at Ottery St. Catchpole used to be a summer cottage and orchard for the Goldfeather’s. The Weasley’s were quite fortunate. Arthur and Molly had been officially disowned for birthing a child out of wedlock as I recall. I daresay if they hadn’t come into a rent free property already producing a small if stable income in produce they may have had trouble affording their ever expanding brood.” The goblin said, chuckling drly. 

Which, well, that bloody rankled. Not that Hermione really _wanted_ Ron and his family to be penniless paupers. It just...sat badly with her. That even as bad as it could get for the decidedly less affluent family they were always able to fall back on looted spoils of war. Spoils paid for in the blood of Hermione’s family. There was also the sheer unfairness of how many other, less fortunate families were unable to even afford one or two children. She knew the last census of wizarding Britain had noted how many muggleborns families were _still_ destitute after having their homes, livelihoods and communities ruined in death eater attacks more than a decade ago. If the situation wasn’t currently so tenuous she’d probably be sending the redhead an annoyed and scathing letter right about now.

The question of family did bring up another thought for Hermione though. After all, she couldn’t really be the last Goldfeather. Could she? Did Dumbledore really slaughter her family down to just one person? 

She wouldn’t put it past him at this point. 

“Well, in any case, our plans remain mostly unchanged. Please prepare a portkey to the properties you mentioned in the Forbidden Forest. If it is so far remote it should fit our purposes one way or another. I would also like to formally request a full audit of what exactly was done with the Goldfeather estate by Dumbledore. He remains our sworn enemy and we will make him _bleed_ for every cent he stole.” Hermione ordered as an angry hiss rumbled in her throat. 

“Of course Ms Goldfeather. Any further business for today?” Gragnok replied. His lips were curled up in what looked disturbingly like a happy grin. Guess the way to a goblins good graces was threatening death upon traitors and thieves. Who would have guessed?

Hermione was about to shake her head before the parchment of her inheritance and family tree caught her eye. With a quick gesture she brought it around to look through the...surprisingly extensive family history. Incredibly small print names and branches went back a full seven generations. With a bit of fiddling she realized the paper was actually enchanted. As she ran her fingers over it she could scroll back even further or zoom the tree out or in. 

What caught her eye though were the way some names were written in bright shimmering gold ink. Mostly this was just her own name, her ‘sire’ and ‘bearer’ (Evelyn and Owen Goldfeather respectively, which really didn’t feel real to her, even if she knew it was) as well as those directly up the family tree from there. Idly she noted that on her own leaf were two names. Hermione Jean Granger and Briana Goldfeather, not that her birth name was particularly relevant anymore. Except for Hermione, all of the gold names had been crossed out with a thick red line, presumably indicating death. However, on the further branches of the tree were over two dozen names in dark black ink. Most of which were crossed out as well, but a few remained. 

“What’s the significance of the black versus gold ink?” Hermione asked. 

“Ah, well, fae were...known for a certain level of normalized promiscuity. It drove many of the purebloods mad with jealousy for awhile there. The gold name are full blooded fae and thus considered legally part of the Goldfeather family. The black names are children born by the humans your parents had...daliances with. While they may have been more likely to inherit metamorphmagus talents or be magically powerful, they were still fully human.” Gragnok replied, looking supremely uncomfortable to be discussing the mating habits of Hermione’s parents. Which...fair enough, she was totally happy to let this conversation die a painful death. 

Only, then she looked at the name farthest to the right, connected by an arrow to her Sire and promptly choked on her own spit. 

Fucking hell. 

Lily Evans Potter.

Her bloody cunting bastard half-sister was Lily bloomin Evan’s fucking _Potter._

...and her best friend, Harry bleedin Potter, the boy who _fucking_ lived was her _nephew_. 

Merlin’s harry bollocks there was not enough underage drinking in the _world_ to process that.

Another _super_ day in magical paradise.


End file.
